Matters of Duty
by Gaeruil
Summary: We know what happened with Jack, Barbossa and the other pirates during the movie, but what of Norrington and those under his command?
1. Chapter 1

-Matters of Duty-

Author's note: This is an idea that's been swirling since last November, which is also when I started writing it. I hope this lives up to the quality of _Little Miracles_ and that it's enjoyed as well.

Disclaimer: The party of the first part (this author) hereby swears that she owns nothing previously owned by the party of the second part (Disney and their film-making associates). The party of the first part also agrees to take no money for the writing of this fanfiction, and also agrees to take no credit for the lines of dialogue and scenes as heard and seen in the movie _Pirates of the Caribbean_.

Secondary Author's note: I've been making revisions and corrections (among them being Lt. Groves, and little mistakes I didn't catch before), and _hopefully_ will be able to get writing on this again. I have **_not_** forgotten about this story, though, so don't worry about it not getting finished.

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_Do your duty in all things. You could not do more. You would not wish to do less_. - Robert E. Lee

**Chapter 1**

The sun had risen with the promise of a beautiful, clear day. As he made his way down from the top of the battlements after his morning stroll, Captain James Norrington found himself partially dreading the ceremony later in the day. It wasn't the promotion he dreaded; indeed, he looked forward to taking the next step in his career. It was the ceremony of the whole affair—which the governor insisted on—that he would have preferred to do without.

The various members of society would be attending at Governor Swann's invitation, and all would likely try to speak with him of things he had no desire to know. Topics such as how much money they made in the last month from their different plantations or how many barrels of rum or tobacco they shipped out held no interest for him when lives were at stake. And it wasn't just business they spoke of, nor was it just the men trying to gain his attention. Men and women alike were all constantly harping about how fair their daughters were and how much their dowries were.

If he had wanted to hear such things, he could simply request a return to England and listen to the prattle of his own parents and their friends. It would be no more enjoyable than it was here, though perhaps much worse. He had a feeling the attention would only get worse with his promotion.

He wanted nothing more than to have the day pass so he would have all the obligatory pleasantries over with. Briefly, he went over which members of society were likely to be there, which ones he would have take more care in avoiding, and what to do should one of society's leeches corner him.

As he slowly worked his way back down into the fort's corridors for breakfast, he wished now, more than ever, that he were out on patrol. Instead, with the untimely death of Jonathan McDonald—the man previously stationed over Port Royal and the local waters—a little over five months ago, James had moved up, as the port's ranking officer, to coordinate the patrols at sea and on land as well as maintaining supplies and defenses and keep the general peace in the area until a replacement could be sent.

Imagine his surprise when that replacement didn't come in the form of another person, but in his own ascension to the rank of commodore.

The Admiralty must obviously have found his work and record to be satisfactory enough to promote him. The fact that he was fairly well placed on the captain's list after a short amount of time no doubt helped in influencing their decision to allow him the post. But while he would gain the benefits of having pay and uniform equal to that of a rear admiral, he was still just a captain—one with higher acknowledgement and responsibility, but a captain nonetheless.

The officer's dining room was nearly full as he entered, and he noticed several broad smiles on the faces of his fellow officers, as well as a few envious expressions. That was the way of things, though. Not even the Navy was immune to competition for position, as much as it irritated him. Everyone fought to get to the top of the list, and everyone was always trying to advance his rank and position by any means possible according to their own personal codes.

"Here he comes, Gentlemen. _Commodore_ James Norrington," called Lieutenant Nathaniel Gillette as James made his way to the chair across from his long-time friend. "How does it feel, James?"

James removed his hat, hanging it on the back of his chair. "I wouldn't know, Nathan. I have yet to officially gain said rank," he replied as he sat down with his two closest friends. A marine brought his meal and after quietly thanking the man, he tucked in with dignity as befitted his stature.

"Ask him again this evening, Nathan. Surely he would know by then," said Theodore Groves, another close friend and lieutenant.

"To truly know, it would be best to ask me in at least several months," James responded mildly without looking up from his plate. "One can never tell by the end of the first day, you know."

"Ah, but you have already had several months of being a sort of unofficial commodore. I highly doubt your duties will be any different than what you are currently doing," said Nathan.

"Being a commodore would be much more dull, I should think," Theodore commented before taking a small sip of his coffee. "More responsibilities, more paperwork, more dinner parties and the like to attend."

"A higher pay rate, a more elaborate uniform, a larger share of prize money for captured ships, more freedom to get more things done as they should be, and did I mention more money?" Gillette returned.

Groves snorted in a rather undignified way. "I grant the money issue would, indeed, be an improvement, but it would just mean more men trying to shove their daughters off on you, more aspects of a uniform to keep tidy, more time stuck behind a desk, which could mean less time out at s—"

"Gentlemen, we are officers in His Majesty's Navy," Norrington cut in mildly. He calmly sipped his tea and looked to his friends before continuing. "We are not the local plantation owners quarrelling over whose export is better." His mouth twisted into a wry smile as his friends quieted down.

"And there is certainly no better career choice than to be an honorable officer of the British Royal Navy. Not only is it among the strongest forces in the world, but it gives one a way to enjoy the freedom of the seas with consistent pay," Gillette added, then amended himself. "Or _fairly consistent_ pay, _part_ of the time."

"Indeed," Theodore agreed. James also noted as he finished off his meal that several of the other officers had been listening in, and voiced their agreements as well. "Though I don't care so much for the money as I do the fact that I get to see new places."

"Ah, but without money—"

"Gentlemen, as much as I would like to listen to you continue this argu- -ahem- _conversation_, I must ask that you please excuse me. The morning's reports await me," he said as he reluctantly pushed his chair back and stood.

"But today is your promotion!" Gillette said.

"Which does not mean everything must stop, Nathan, you know that. The reports are still there, and must still be reviewed. It is unlikely I will find time later today; therefore they must be seen to now. I would prefer to be better informed, in any case." He paused, noting the appraising look on Theodore's face. "What?"

"You." The man smirked, then pointed a finger at James. "You, Sir, are merely thinking to review the reports to see if there is some way of wiggling out of some of the parties that will undoubtedly follow the ceremony."

James schooled his features into the mask he used for command, but it was the dry tone he allowed that countered the blank expression. "Of course, Theo, how ever could I be so careless as to let you see what my plans are. That is _exactly_ what I am doing. And while I am trying to find a way out of today's events, I might as well send the two of you to the parties in my place."

"You would do no such thing to your friends," Gillette reasoned. "Especially two capable of nasty little things."

James raised an eyebrow as he pushed his chair back in. "You mean 'two who _think_ they are capable of nasty little things' don't you? Until later, Gentlemen." He retrieved his hat and left the room, heading for his office further down the corridor.

The day was going to be far more busy than usual and it was in his best interest to get as much done now while he could. Aside from some of his usual duties, he had his promotion ceremony, the reception that would follow, where some of the plantation owners and merchants were certain to corner him in hopes of gaining favor and thus more protection for their shipments.

He also realized that Elizabeth Swann had begun to influence many of his thoughts of late. She was intelligent and had retained her child-like curiosity and fascination with things— though, usually all things concerning pirates, much to his chagrin—that endeared her all the more to him. She was more lively and daring, and, dare he even think it, passionate than any of her peers. She drew pleasure from simply living and that in itself made it difficult to keep his attention away from her. He had known her since she was a child but because of that, he wasn't entirely certain she would accept.

He knew of many young women on the island who all but threw themselves at him—or were thrown by their parents, for that matter—because of his social standing, but that hardly made them attractive. Miss Swann didn't seek his attention, which, admittedly, could be taken either way. That made him a touch nervous, though it was likely it was because of their differing opinions concerning pirates.

Though he knew he could be perfectly content to continue as he was, he was becoming…lonely. When he looked around and saw so many of his fellow officers, soldiers and sailors with families to return to and greet them, he saw and felt a void in his life, in his heart, that was ever-growing and more consuming with each passing day. He hated this feeling, but he was powerless to be rid of it without taking action of some sort.

All he needed was the courage to approach Miss Swann.

He entered his office, the largest in the fort, but still somewhat small, and paused a moment. He removed his hat, followed by his coat, and sighed in relief while he fought the urge to scratch at his head. With the hat off, the wig he was forced to wear didn't itch near as much as it did otherwise. He would have thought that he would have gotten used to it by now, but he hadn't. Not really. It bothered his ears where loose, stiff little hairs prickled his skin more than anything. It was part of his uniform, however, and he would continue to wear it despite the fact that he detested the thing at times.

He settled in behind his desk and glanced over what was before him. The leather satchel was on the far right that would contain everything to be sent to England next to the stack of reports he had gotten this morning. On the left were the month's budgets for food, gun powder, ammunition for the cannons, muskets and pistols, and other supplies like candles and what few medical needs they had. Next to that, was the fitness report telling the status of wounded or ill soldiers followed by a few disciplinary reports.

He focused first on the budget and supplies. Soldiers without the items they were entitled to were unhappy soldiers and thus more likely to revolt. Likewise, the English Navy couldn't operate properly without shot or powder. Pirates and opposing countries could run Jamaica over in a heartbeat without some way to fight back.

Later, he was just starting to read over the dispatches from England when a loud thumping startled him. "Sir! I have a matter of somewhat importance!" Gillette called out as he knocked on the door.

"I certainly hope you are not going to yell it to me from the other side of the door. You may come in." Gillette came through the door with two marines standing reluctantly in the doorway. James glanced up momentarily before looking back up and reclining in his chair as he forced a neutral expression. "What happened to your uniform, Lieutenant?"

"These two were arguing. They weren't paying attention. They threw a bucket of water on me!" Gillette answered, obviously indignant. He was typically very meticulous about his appearance, though one wouldn't expect it from the way he behaved at times, and to see him so discomfited was rather amusing.

"That's not entirely true, Sir," said one of the marines, a Mister Angus Mullroy, if he wasn't mistaken. "We were just having a friendly discussion and he walked into it."

"That's right, Sir. He just walked right into it," said the other. Murtogg was his name. Giles Murtogg. It was very rare to see one without the other, and after speaking with one on one of those rare occasions, he had found out that the two had been trained together. Through some strange luck or fate, they had somehow managed to have the same posts through all these years.

"And where, exactly did this…mishap occur?"

Gillette stiffened. "Near the main gate." James watched, secretly amused, as Gillette lowered his head slightly and continued, mumbling the rest.

"What was that, Lieutenant?"

"I said it was near the main gate during the change of the guards."

It took a few moments before James could manage to speak without allowing any sign of his amusement through. "And what would you have me do about this?"

"I don't know. Something. They shouldn't get away with dousing an officer with dirty water."

James glanced at the two marines. He could tell they were worried about what would be decided. He could also tell that everyone was at fault in some way and decided that all three should be punished in some form for not paying better attention. He wouldn't want them to pay for that later if they were caught unaware. James smiled.

"Very well. Lieutenant Gillette, for not paying attention to where you were going, you will be officer of the afternoon watch aboard the _Dauntless_ for the rest of the week beginning tomorrow; you'll not be wriggling out of today's social gathering, either." He could see Murtogg and Mullroy trying to control their amusement. The afternoon watches could get incredibly hot and dull at times where the large ship lay anchored, and everyone knew it. "Mister Murtogg and Mister Mullroy, because you did not pay attention to where you were dumping the water, you will spend the rest of this watch today and the rest of the week guarding the _Interceptor_. No civilians are to set foot on those docks. Is that understood?" he asked, looking to all three men.

"Yes, Sir," they answered.

"Good. Now that that is settled, I am certain there are things needing done. You are dismissed." He returned their salutes and waited until they had shut the door behind them before turning back to the dispatches.

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Like it? Hate it? Let me know. ;)

I know the beginning might seem a bit slow or strange, but please bear with me, as beginnings are sometimes not my strong point. Then again, neither are endings.

I'm also not entirely sure how my update schedule will be. I'll try to update every weekend at the very least, but I also have classes starting again in a little over a week, so I'll mostly be playing it by ear.

- Gaeruil


	2. Chapter 2

-Matters of Duty-

Disclaimer: The movie is owned by people I am neither employed by nor am a partner of. I can therefore claim nothing from this work of fanfiction other than the pleasure of writing it.

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_  
All fits of pleasure are balanced by an equal degree of pain or languor; 'tis like spending this year, part of the next year's revenue_. - Jonathan Swift 

**Chapter 2**

The sun was hot as it beat down on the dark blue fabric of his uniform, and Nathaniel Gillette struggled to not loosen his collar a bit or throw his hat and wig to the wind. He even wished he were already out on the _Dauntless_ on watch. At least there, beyond the walls of the fort, there was a slight breeze to keep one cool enough.

There were also no civilians to speak to and pretend to tolerate.

Why Governor Swann wanted to invite so many landowners for so simple a thing as a promotion was beyond his imagination. To have everyone stand on ceremony like this seemed like such a waste of time and energy when just a simple military event would have sufficed. He would have preferred a simple military event, anyway, and he suspected James felt the same.

Though James hadn't said anything this morning, he knew that Port Royal's ships needed to be out on patrol.

He had heard of another attack on a merchant ship from Lieutenant McCallister last night when the _Implacable_ had returned to port. They had found only the ship's wreckage, but no survivors. They had heard a single bloodcurdling cry and the sound of thrashing water and nothing else. They had searched through all the wreckage as well, but to no avail. Everyone suspected the _Black Pearl_, though it went unsaid.

Nathan knew that the _Black Pearl_ had been a thorn in Norrington's side for at least the past five years. The ship had plagued everyone in the area for the last ten years, but none had yet managed to destroy it. Many, however, thought it to be a mere myth.

The officers of the port had seen too much evidence to suggest differently and, contrary to popular belief, there _had_ been a few survivors. Very few, but they lived nonetheless. They had been able to tell what had happened, and fewer still had been able to describe the ship.

Sharp commands from the courtyard drew him from his thoughts to find marines entering and forming a line of salute. At the far end, James came to a stop. Even from this distance, he looked rather bored. Nathan could see it in the slight droop of his shoulders, and the certain blankness to his facial features seen many times before at the various dinner parties given by men of society.

To one who knew him, it was obvious that James Norrington didn't want so much fuss over his accomplishments. No celebration had been had for any of his other promotions unless it was the small, private dinners thrown by his grandfather back in England or when he had visited. Nathan himself had met Geoffrey Emerson once, back when he had come to visit and celebrate James's promotion to captain. It had been easy to see where many of his commander's values had come from.

The two men had been so alike in opinion, they were more father and son than grandfather and grandson. They were even similar in appearance, as James had obviously taken after his mother's family and one really didn't need to meet his parents to see that. The two men had had the same height, the same facial features, the same hair color and the same shade of holly-green eyes.

Eyes that were currently examining his new blade. From what Nathan could see from his place among his fellow officers, the new sword was finely made with excellent balance. Nathan himself had only been given one sword so far, having only reached as far as lieutenant, but he knew this made James's third. _What does he do with them all?_ he wondered as an officer sent by the Admiralty brought a medal of rank forward. His thoughts turned back to his friend and commander.

James didn't talk about his parents much. Only once had Nathan ever heard him speak of them, and that had only been to say that they didn't get along well. It had been Emerson himself that had gone just a little further and had said that Charles Norrington was a banker in London and Marjorie, Emerson's daughter, had changed drastically since marrying the man. Emerson had stopped there, shaking his head in disgust.

"…the title of Commodore in charge of the British Naval operations in the Caribbean waters surrounding Port Royal and Jamaica is hereby bestowed upon James Edward Norrington on this day of…" Gillette tuned the man back out. He was simply reading the words written on every letter of promotion. Nathan himself had read such words himself on his own letter when he reached the rank of lieutenant. The only real difference was the rank itself, the name, and the date.

Discreetly, Nathan glanced around at the surrounding civilians. They were all petty and cared nothing about the actual risks taken and the troubles those in the military went through to keep them and their fortunes safe. A patch of pink caught his eye, though he quickly turned his focus elsewhere as that gown's owner swiveled her gaze toward him.

Agatha Williamson's attentions were already pointed toward James and himself far more than either of them wanted without him giving her any kind of imagined encouragement. Out of all the young, unmarried ladies of Jamaica, she was, perhaps, the least desirable of them all. But they were all alike—useless for the most part.

His averted gaze fell on another figure on the opposite side of the courtyard. Though partially blocked from his view, he could see Elizabeth Swann fidgeting with her dress, completely oblivious to her surroundings. She clearly seemed to wish she were anywhere but here. Privately, he wondered what she was even doing here. She obviously had no interest in James, and Nathan had even seen evidence of it in her facial expressions and heard it in her voice several times when his friend wasn't looking or around. He couldn't help but wonder why she wouldn't simply tell James that she didn't like him; he certainly didn't like it that she did so.

All too soon, the medal of rank was secured around James's neck and the attending crowd was dispersed to do as they wished while entertainment and tables of refreshment were set up. Gillette immediately headed for James, who was already surrounded with well-wishers, to wait his turn to offer congratulations. Halting, he found himself standing behind his other friend, Theodore. "Quite the turn out, don't you think?" Nathan asked.

"Varied to say the least," Groves replied. "I daresay some of the men may even enjoy themselves."

"Of course they will. I have it on good authority that Governor Swann is the one that supplied the food and drink. The simple fact that the food is the complete opposite of military rations would be cause enough for anyone to enjoy themselves."

"You're probably right."

"Of course I'm right!" Nathan said, then lowered his voice. "You don't think anyone in their right mind could truly enjoy speaking with these sorts of people, do you?"

"Stranger things have happened, Nathan." They stepped forward a few paces. "Besides, I imagine that Stephen Rawlins, there, wouldn't mind speaking with Frederick Williamson any day of the week."

"Yes, but they are just alike. That doesn't count and you know it."

"And the fact that Benjamin McCallister appears to be having a pleasant conversation with Alistair Thannon?"

Nathan moved his gaze toward the indicated pair, studying them carefully. " 'Appear' would be the key word. Look closer. McCallister's nervous; his gaze is shifty. I think he merely fancies Thannon's daughter, Moira, and is trying to improve his chances."

"She's pleasant enough. Quite young, but pleasant. It would probably be a smart match for him."

"It would. He wouldn't want for money." Nathan flicked his gaze sideways, hoping to catch the man's reaction.

Theodore scowled, his head turning toward him. "Is that all you ever think of? There is more to the world than material wealth."

Nathan hid a smile, giving him an innocent expression instead. "Of course I don't." _I just love to listen to you voice your obvious distaste for it._ "There are also possible 'unfortunate mishaps' to think of, and who would be suitable victims for those 'mishaps'." He smiled benignly, gleeful when Groves took a slight, involuntary step back. Nathan stepped forward, surreptitiously exchanging places with his friend.

"Just what are you planning _this_ time?"

"Planning? Me? Why, absolutely nothing, my dear friend." Nathan stepped forward, diverting his attention from Groves. "Congratulations, _Commodore_ Norrington," he said.

James flashed him the guarded smile of a commanding officer, though it had the warmth of a close friend or brother as well. "Thank you, Lieutenant." He bent forward a little more, retaining the smile, and lowered his voice. "Behave yourself, Nathan."

"Of course, sir." He was well aware that James knew he had no intention of doing so.

"Congratulations, sir," Theodore said, moving them both along.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he said more pleasantly. He looked again to Nathan, this time more sternly. "I mean it." Nathan simply shot him an innocent look and waited for Theodore to join him.

"I know you're up to something," Groves said once they were further away. "What is it?"

"Why do you want to know? Would you like to help?" Nathan began a leisurely stroll toward a nearby refreshment table, not bothering to wait until a marine came by with a tray.

"No, actually, I would like to know whether I need to change any personal habits for the next little while."

"You should not be telling me such things, Theodore. I would think you would have learned by now that it only brings my attentions to where you would rather not have it. And then the pirate came at me and I had no choice but to run him through! _Blood_ positively _sprayed_ all over my uniform and I think I saw a little of what he may have _eaten_ that morning spill out once he dropped to the deck…. Surely you remember the time you mentioned that same fear to me when I first made your acquaintance and you found seaweed in your bedding."

"Who was it?" Groves asked, choosing the most refreshing beverage he could find.

"Miss Williamson," Gillette answered, selecting the same drink.

"She's starting her rounds a bit early today, isn't she?" Theodore asked, discreetly flicking his gaze at the surrounding people.

"Mm. Her mother probably pushed her to it. She's usually the reason behind it, you know." Nathan took a sip. "She's in pink today, by the way."

"I thank you for the warning. It appears that James will find no respite today," he said, motioning with his head. "Should we help him?"

Nathan turned his own gaze that direction to find James surrounded by men and women of society with a pleading expression on his face. "No," he said, returning James' expression with a broad smile and lifted his glass. "I think we should let him squirm a little more." James' expression became a scowl.

For Nathaniel Gillette and Theodore Groves, the day continued in much the same manner. One of the young women would approach, and whoever noticed her first would immediately start spouting outrageous tales of blood and battle. It wasn't that they didn't like speaking with women. They simply had no desire to speak with any of these particular attending ladies. In Nathan's case, none of them caught his attention or interest enough to approach.

At one point, Nathan noticed what appeared to be a strained conversation between James and Governor Swann. It seemed James didn't agree with whatever Swann was speaking of. He was shaking his head rather discreetly, but he eventually appeared resigned. It was then Nathan knew that whatever the governor had been trying to convince James of, he had succeeded.

The mid-afternoon sun scorched everything. The air seemed to move even less than before, if possible, except from the various moving fans and skirts. Time seemed to slow, and the two lieutenants had moved to stand right beside the refreshment table, where they had a steady supply of something fairly cool to drink. The small string quartet was even currently playing a slow, almost lazy piece.

"What is he doing?" Theodore asked, his gaze directed toward the cliff-side walls.

Nathan turned to look. James and Miss Swann were stepping away from everyone else, a bit. "I'm not certain. He looks rather tense, doesn't he?"

"Nervous and timid as a mouse."

"Is it just me, or does he look like he's having a bit of trouble breathing?"

"Don't be absurd!" Theodore said. "What could cause James Norrington, of all people, to have trouble breathing? I don't think your eyesight is good enough to tell whether he is or not from here in any case."

"He looks serious, and she looks rather…disconcerted, I think." Nathan paused, trying to get a better idea of what might be going on; only one idea came to mind. "You don't think he could be proposing, do you?"

"Proposing? To her? What would possess him to do such a thing?"

"Well, one has to admit she's certainly unique compared to the other ladies. She's also the governor's daughter." _And the governor can be quite persuading when he wants to be._ Nathan had a feeling that this, whatever it was, had been the topic of the exchange he'd witnessed earlier.

"Social status means nothing to James, and you know it. I was under the impression that he still thought of her as a child. When did he start thinking differently? Why _her_? He could do so much better than Miss Swann."

"Don't ask _me_ when or why his opinion might have changed. Ask _him_."

"Lieutenant Gillette, Lieutenant Groves," came a feminine voice from behind.

Nathan turned slowly, first seeing pink, then the less-than-lovely face of Agatha Williamson. "Miss Williamson," he acknowledged grudgingly.

"Miss Williamson," Theodore also acknowledged.

"Do you like my dress?" she asked. "Father had it sent all the way from London."

"Did he really?" Nathan asked, forcing himself to be polite.

"It's…lovely," Theodore managed.

Though it was obvious that it had been quite expensive, the dress was really nothing spectacular. In truth, it didn't seem to flatter her very well. She was eager to speak to them, however, and this time, they had no chance to try and scare her off. Nathan glanced at Theodore, using his long friendship with the slightly older man to silently ask what they should do now.

He had no answers.

"He said it cost him two days' worth of earnings from his shipments, but I think he may have exaggerated a little. Do you think this humidity could ruin it? Father was told that it was of a more delicate silk, but I cannot tell."

"Well…" Theodore began. Both men hadn't a clue what she was talking about. Did she honestly think they did?

Nathan shot his friend a look with a rather wicked gleam in his eyes. He ignored the return look of slight alarm and the warning not to do whatever he had planned. "Yes, I can see that. It appears to have come from the northern regions of the Orient. The silks from that particular region are naturally more fragile, you know."

"They are?"

"Indeed they are. Colder weather and all. It isn't good for the worms."

"Worms!" she exclaimed, disgusted.

"Oh yes. All silks are made from worms. Didn't you know that?"

"No! That's absolutely vile! How can anyone stand it?"

"Well…" Nathan shrugged, delighted to no end. He shot Theodore a gleeful smile as she turned, searching faces frantically.

"Father!" she called out, scurrying off.

"Was any of that true?" Groves asked him after she left.

Nathan snorted. "Other than silk coming from silk worms, I haven't a bloody clue. I—"

"Elizabeth!" came James' panicked bellow.

Simultaneously, Nathan and Theodore's heads shot up and over to their friend. He stood alone, clutching the nearby stones gazing straight down. She didn't—she couldn't have, could she? They sprinted straight for him. Nathan, being the faster runner, caught him just as he was beginning to shrug his coat off. Surely he didn't think to dive off after her!

Reaching Norrington's side, Nathan looked down, seeing where she had entered the water. "The rocks! Sir, it's a miracle _she_ missed them!"

Visibly frustrated with his inability to do anything from here, James jerked his coat back into place, spun on his heel and took off. They had no choice but to follow, two dozen or more marines and Governor Swann pursuing close behind.

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Like it? Hate it? Let me know. ;) 

I hope this chapter wasn't too weird or off again. Please continue to bear with me. Some of these beginning chapters just seem a bit awkward to me.

**Erusiel:** ;)

**cheska:** Thank you very much! And thank goodness that didn't seem slow to you. :p I'm glad you're enjoying this so far. :D

**Oneiriad:** Thank you:D

**BlackJackSilver:** That's my idea of how Murtogg and Mullroy came to be there, anyway. :p I think you're about right about Gillette, though, poor guy. I figure if one is used to being in full uniform in that heat, they wouldn't mind it as much as we would today. Plus, that was just what they knew then. I don't know about the wig, though. I keep trying to figure out where to find that. Thank you very much, though:D

**wellduh**… Thank you! Blunt can be good…

**Rennie1265:** Thank you very much! I think what draws me to these characters is the fact that there seemingly isn't much to them in the movie. It allows for more freedom in developing them a bit. That and the fact that they're in uniform. laughs at self Seriously, though, I saw and still see tons of potential for them. I watch the movie a lot, and every time I do, more thoughts hit me of what one of them could've been thinking in a particular scene, and where they might've been coming from; what caused them to do what they did and how they did it. This is definitely not a one-shot thing, though. If I keep to my current, tentative chapter outline, there will be close to thirty chapters in this one.

**moonbeam:** Thanks! I'll try my best to remember to email you.

**Eledhwen:** Thank you:D

I'll try my best to be back next weekend. My classes start this next week…

- Gaeruil


	3. Chapter 3

-Matters of Duty-

Disclaimer: I own nothing that could possibly result in me making millions of dollars in one shot.

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_We are all born mad. Some remain so_. – Samuel Beckett 

**Chapter 3**

"Make way!" Sergeant Glasdon yelled from somewhere behind.

In front of him, several men, civilians and soldiers alike moved aside as the large group rushed through. What the devil had he been thinking, proposing marriage to her so close to the edge like that? He had been fully prepared to jump after her with no thought for his own life. After all, how long would she remain alive after a fall like that? That was, of course, assuming she survived the fall itself.

James continued his race toward the docks, holding his new sword steady. Why hadn't he noticed when she had fallen? How had he let his nervousness get so bad as to take control like that? He wasn't so remiss during attack, why had he been so just moments ago? Now that negligence could cost Elizabeth her life. If he hadn't been so inattentive, he might have prevented it from happening. What would he do if they arrived too late?

How would he be able to live with himself if they were?

This certainly wasn't the way he had hoped to begin his new posting.

Perhaps this was an omen of things to come.

His feet hit the wooden planks of the docks, and though his thoughts refused to stop swirling with worry, the fact that he was closer to her brought focus. Looking ahead, in the direction of the _Interceptor_, he could see two heads slowly approaching the docks. _So someone _had _jumped in after her._ He was greatly relieved, but he couldn't help but worry that they had still gotten to her too late.

He looked a few paces later to see Murtogg and Mullroy helping to pull her up onto the docks. James continued glancing over toward her, straining his ears to hear above the clatter of footsteps behind him. A suspicious, rather unkempt man was still hauling himself out, Mullroy bent over her. "She's not breathing!" Mullroy said, crouched beside her. James's breath caught.

"Move!" the scruffy man barked.

Concentrating on where he was going, as he turned to go around the repair gantry, he didn't see what the man did as he, too, leaned over her. All he heard was Elizabeth suddenly coughing. James sprinted the rest of the way, his eyes not leaving the man as he examined something she wore.

Up close, he looked even more questionable in his origin, which set off a number of warnings in the pit of his stomach. He also noticed she was no longer decently dressed. The cad! He drew his sword and stopped before them, making sure the man would try nothing.

"On your feet," he ordered, watching the man slowly stand. Though he couldn't help but be furious that the man had indecently pulled her free of her dress, the practical part of his mind screamed that it was to the benefit of both—that the weight of so much saturated fabric would surely have pulled even the strongest of swimmers back down.

Governor Swann pushed passed him, removing his own jacket. "Elizabeth! Are you all right?" he asked, pulling her up from the dock.

"Yes." Her father looped his arms around her in order to pull the jacket around her shoulders. "Yes, I'm fine."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the governor look across at something, then movement as Murtogg dropped something, pointing at the pirate. James kept his eyes trained on the man before them. Swann straightened, indignant, as any father would be at his un-wed daughter's state of dress at the hands of another. "Shoot him!" He finally settled his jacket snuggly around her shoulders, then pulled her close to try and protect what was left of her modesty.

"Father!" Elizabeth interrupted.

"What?"

"Commodore, do you really intend to kill my rescuer?"

James glanced over at her briefly. As much as he distrusted the man, she did have a point. This man could simply be a merchant or…something. _Right,_ _and I'm King George himself._ He thought he recalled a description of this man—it was from several years ago, though, just before he had received his commission as a captain.

An old friend of his, by the name of Stuart Duncan, had been posted to a ship assigned as escort to some East India Trading Company ships at one time. His ship had stopped for supplies and news while heading south. Duncan had told a tale of a pirate that had been so…colorful, that it had stuck in James's memory after so many years.

If that recollection were true, there was one way he could make certain. If not, the worst that could happen was that he would have to apologize to the man. With his eyes and a nearly imperceptible nod, he motioned for his men to lower their weapons. Forcefully, he sheathed his sword, noting how the man before him seemed pleased, while the governor did not. "I believe thanks are in order," he said, extending his hand.

The colorful man was very hesitant about returning the gesture, as if he suspected what James had planned. It only served to deepen his suspicion. As the grime-blackened hand inched forward, James's own shot forward, grasping the stranger's before he could try anything, then yanked the man's cuff back.

Just as he suspected—a pirate's brand.

"Had a brush with the East India Trading Company, did we, _Pirate_?" he asked, failing to keep the smug tone out of his voice. The pirate flinched.

Governor Swann straightened, vindicated. "Hang him."

Keeping a tight hold on the pirate, James glanced back over his shoulder. "Keep your guns on him, men. Gillette, fetch some irons." He quickly returned his focus to the man before him and pushed the sleeve further up to confirm that this was who he thought it to be. It was, amusingly enough. There, just above the brand, as had been described, was a tattoo of a bird in flight above the water at either sunrise or sunset. "Well, well. Jack Sparrow, isn't it?" Forcefully, he relinquished his grasp.

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow if you please, sir." It appeared he was just as incorrigible Duncan had described him, though there had been no mention of rank then.

James straightened. He hadn't been informed of any new ships to enter the port under the command of a 'Captain Sparrow'. "Well, I don't see your ship…Captain," he said, looking around for a ship everyone knew wasn't there.

"I'm in the market, as it were." James was finding Duncan to be more and more correct all the time.

"He said he'd come to commandeer one," Murtogg said, catching his attention.

"Told you he was telling the truth," Mullroy responded, telling of yet another argument today. "These are his, sir," he continued proudly, producing a number of items from the docks by his feet.

Norrington glanced over the items quickly, then examined each more closely. There wasn't much. He picked up the first item, a pistol, and tossed it between his hands. It was of good quality and had excellent balance; no doubt it had likely been stolen. He looked back in the hat, searching the other items, then carefully tossed the weapon back into Mister Mullroy's care. "No additional shot, nor powder," he noted.

He selected the next item, a small box, which he opened. A hand-held compass. He moved it around finding the instrument didn't turn as it was supposed to. He couldn't help the smirk tugging at his mouth. "A compass that doesn't point North." A small chuckle escaped.

James finally turned his attention to the last item. _What next? A toy sword?_ he thought, thoroughly amused. He pulled the blade a good hand's width, astonished to find a proper sword. "And I half expected it to be made of wood." He shoved the blade back into his sheath. Duncan had certainly been right. "You are without doubt the _worst_ pirate I've ever heard of."

Sparrow gestured with clasped hands, a smug smirk on his face. "But you _have _heard of me."

James's amusement deserted him. Annoyed, he seized Sparrow's arm and hauled him to the other side of the dock near the gantry. Surely Nathan had located some manacles by now. Behind him, he heard Elizabeth's smaller weight surge forward. "Commodore, I really must protest," she said, rushing forward to join them.

He ignored her, focusing instead on the pirate as Gillette moved to bind his hands. "Carefully, Lieutenant." There was no telling what a desperate pirate might try.

"Pirate or not, this man saved my life," she continued, coming to stop before him. She had thrown aside her father's jacket.

"One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness," he said. Was she honestly defending this criminal? Who knew what all this man had done! What made it worse, was the fact that she stood between them, making it more difficult to keep an eye on the pirate, as he was forced to divide his attention.

"Though it seems enough to condemn him," Sparrow put in.

"Indeed," he said, forcing his increasing frustration back down as Gillette backed away.

"Finally." Before anyone could react, the pirate had thrown his chain around Elizabeth's neck and pulled her closer.

James leapt forward, but immediately stopped, fearful of what Sparrow might do if they came too close. "No!" the governor exclaimed, obviously terrified for his daughter as the soldiers surged forward, bringing bayonets to bear. "No! Don't shoot!"

Sparrow peeked his head out a little. "I knew you'd warm up to me." He ducked back down a hair, turning his gaze. "Commodore Norrington, my effects, please." He straightened, pointing his finger as if he'd just remembered something. "And my hat."

James swiftly went through his options. They couldn't risk shooting him without hitting Elizabeth, the same with charging him with bayonets. She was simply in the way, just as Sparrow intended. On the other hand, if he were to give in and hand the items over, Sparrow would have a weapon to threaten her with. Something that would enable him to kidnap her if he so wished. He also might very well strangle her here and now with the chains if his wishes were ignored.

"Commodore," the pirate prompted, tightening the chain around her neck. Grudgingly, James turned back toward Mullroy and collected the items into his own hands. Perhaps if Sparrow had what he wanted, he'd release her, unharmed, and they could recapture him once she was safely out of the way. "Elizabeth— It is 'Elizabeth', isn't it?"

"It's 'Miss Swann.' "

"Miss Swann, if you'd be so kind." James pushed his current helplessness away as she looked to him for answers he couldn't give her. "Come, come, Dear. We don't have all day," the pirate prompted again as James reluctantly passed the belongings to her. As expected, Sparrow immediately grabbed the pistol, cocked it, spun her around and placed the barrel against her head. "Now if you'll be very kind." No longer able to see her face, James was forced into further helplessness as she could only comply with the pirate's wishes. He could see what vulgar sort of relationships Sparrow was accustomed to with women by the smug look on his face as she was forced to step closer and practically embrace the pirate to finish her task. James glanced away, though he knew it would cost him. He glanced back again to find Elizabeth had only the belt around his waist remaining. "Easy on the goods, darling."

He heard her cinch that last belt rather harshly as she stepped back. "You're despicable."

"Sticks and stones, Love," he said quietly. James imagined he had been called far worse before. "I saved your life, you saved mine. We're square." He spun her around once more, then began backing away. Fearful of what he would do to her, James inched forward to keep the same distance between them. "Gentlemen, milady, you will always remember this as the day that you almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow."

James had no time to react as the pirate released Elizabeth, shoving her directly into his and the governor's arms and used the distraction to escape. The sharp clank of metal was heard dimly as the marines around him began yelling. The next thing James knew, the cracked cannon that had recently been replaced aboard the _Interceptor_ was crashing into the docks. Looking up, he saw Sparrow and the top of the repair gantry, spinning around.

"Now will you shoot him?" came Weatherby Swann's annoyed voice.

"Open fire!" Instantly, his men cocked their muskets, taking aim. The reports, being so close to his ears, drowned out all else. Sparrow continued to swing, though he managed to change gantries. "On his heels!" James yelled, dismayed to see Sparrow sliding his way to freedom.

Duncan had apparently been correct about Sparrow's uncanny success as he bungled his way through everything, as well.

"Take cover, man!" someone yelled. As James caught up with the first soldiers down the dock, he was further dismayed to see his men shooting at Sparrow with civilians right beside him. It was the fact that all of those shots missed their intended target and came perilously close to striking those civilians that raised that ire. He was severely disappointed that his men had apparently neglected shooting skills and couldn't help but wonder what other skills might have been neglected.

That would change.

He stopped, watching soldiers take off into the town proper in pursuit. He knew, without looking, that it was Nathan who stopped beside him. "Gillette, Mister Sparrow has a dawn appointment with the gallows." He turned to look his lieutenant in the eye. "I would hate for him to miss it."

Gillette motioned to Murtogg and Mullroy, then took off to follow in the hunt. James, on the other hand, noticed Sergeant Gregory Martin and a small portion of his group arriving off to the side from the fort. He walked toward them instead, intending to lead them himself. He also decided he would wait a few moments, giving Sparrow a bit of time before starting after him. Sparrow was still in irons, after all.

And there was only one place he could try to remove them on his own.

* * *

Like it? Hate it? Just barely able to tolerate it? Please, please, please let me know. 

I really wasn't sure about this chapter at all. It's worried me relentlessly for several months now—yes, months; the first three chapters have been written since basically February or so—and so I would really, really appreciate it if you were to tell me what you thought of it. All I ask is that you be polite about it—and all of you _have_ been very kind and polite, which I _really, truly_ do appreciate. I don't think I could handle it very well at all if someone were rude.

**Erusiel:** :p

**wellduh**… Well, _technically_, the word 'she' was in italics with closed captioning on (I got the lines directly from the movie in a moment of boredom earlier this summer). But it _does_ also appear that she would have thrown herself from the battlements, doesn't it. Poor Norrington; to be thought of in such ways… Thank you very much for the review:D

**BlackJackSilver:** I'm glad you liked their diversionary tactics! That actually came to me in a spur-of-the-moment type of idea. As for writing so soon, I never stopped, to tell the truth. If I'm not watching a movie, reading or doing homework or work around the house, I'm writing. It's just something I have to be doing. It keeps me sane in this mad world. I shall endeavor to do my best to continue, though. The only thing that might stop me this fall would be my college classes. Thank you for the review! As you may enjoy a good read, I enjoy a good review… :p

**Rennie1265:** Yep! This is a long one, though not as long as the next one I have planned. I'm very glad to hear my characterizations are good, though. A big relief, as I worry about each and every chapter. I just hope this last one held up to my past chapters. I'll try to keep what's been set unaltered. Thank you very much for your comments! It lifts my spirits to no end. :D

**Lady Tanarion:** Thank you very much! I'm not sure if you've said how much you like my Gillette before—my memory can be sporadic at times, which doesn't help when trying to learn new languages—but I'm very pleased you like how I've been writing him. :D

**Jaina** **Kenobi:** Thank you! They wouldn't scare me off by talking about battle either. It doesn't usually bother me so much. As for why James proposed to her, you can actually thank my mom for that suggestion. I might have partially thought about it, since I can't stand Elizabeth, but Mom was the one that suggested the governor influence him. I couldn't be happier with it—though it might make his expressions at the end a bit more difficult to give reason for. :p

**moonbeam:** No you didn't review before that, but it's ok if you had. I'm glad you like it, and don't worry… I'll continue to email you.

**Additional note/edit:** Thank you **Rennie1265** for pointing out some mistakes for me. They slipped right by me. I wasn't thinking straight, I think.

I'll be back next weekend, technology, weather and time permitting!

- Gaeruil


	4. Chapter 4

Matters of Duty-

Author's note: Sorry for the delay. The last week or so has been incredibly hectic. Also, for this chapter, I'll be stepping 'back in time' slightly in movie events.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, least of all the rights to movie.

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_One friend in life is much, two are many, three are hardly possible_. – Henry Brooks Adams 

**Chapter 4**

"I sincerely hope you plan to do something about those walls!" Frederick Williamson exclaimed. "I shudder to think what might have happened if it were my Agatha that had fallen over instead of Miss Swann! Those walls are detrimental to one's well being, and I demand that something be done about them, and soon, before it happens again!"

Lieutenant Theodore Groves adjusted his grip on his hat and grit his teeth, forcing himself to remain polite. Of all the officers at the fort, he had to be the one to stay and try to calm the easily frightened civilians. "Rest assured, Mister Williamson. I am certain something shall be done." _Though it isn't very likely,_ he thought. Soldiers were usually the only ones walking along the battlements, and even the newest of them knew to take care when near the low-barrier edges.

"Well _something_ should be done about it! Why do you invite people here in the first place if you're unable to ensure their safety?"

"Is Miss Swann all right? Is anyone getting to her?" Alistair Thannon asked at the same time.

Theodore glanced down from where James had stood before. Behind him, the musicians faltered slightly, no doubt trying to catch their sheets of music before the wind carried it off. "I can see someone submerging to go after her," he told the man. He looked up and around at the sky.

The weather was taking a decidedly sudden change for the worse these last few moments, and he had no idea why. In all his six years at this post, he had never seen anything like it. The wind was picking up, clouds were rolling in at an astonishing rate, and there was even a bit of fog. It wouldn't have been unusual if not for the speed at which it was changing and the fact that the rising sun had indicated a perfect afternoon.

"Are you going to answer my question or not?" Williamson barked.

Theodore twisted around slightly to face him. "Mister Williamson, if you feel so strongly about your safety here at the fort, perhaps you might feel safer elsewhere."

The man scowled and turned sharply on his heel, calling for his wife and daughter. Theodore relaxed, somewhat, thankful to no longer have to deal with the man. He turned back to view the harbor, cursing his inability to see what was going on below. He could see a line of red, indicating James's position and that of the marines he had left the fort with. They were just arriving at the docks now, where the _Interceptor_ lay berthed.

"What news have you now?" another of the guests asked, this time he thought it to be Miss Moira Thannon.

"The Commodore and soldiers are arriving at the docks now. It appears that whoever jumped in after her is climbing back onto the docks now, as well. I am unable to see much more, however—at least without the aid of an eyeglass."

"Here you are, sir. It's actually Commodore Norrington's, from his office, but it was the closest I could find." Theodore turned toward the breathless young voice to find himself looking at Gabriel Stone, a recently promoted lieutenant. He was also the individual who'd been appointed as James's aide when news of his new title arrived.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Theodore accepted the offered telescope and turned back to the water, extending it to gaze through. "Miss Swann is moving. She appears to be all right. Commodore Norrington and his group have arrived. They're speaking with the man who rescued her now."

"Oh! Thank heavens she's all right!" one of the ladies exclaimed.

Theodore turned around and stepped away from the wall. "Yes, she's safe, and it appears she'll be fine." With the help of some of the remaining marines, he politely began ushering the people from the fort. There wasn't really much point in them staying, now, with all that had just happened.

He hadn't been long at it, when several rifle reports exploded from the harbor. Theodore jerked his head around, looking for the nearest marine. "Martin!" he called, sighting the sergeant standing nearby. The man gave a quick nod and gathered a group of marines before taking off to assist those at the waterfront.

"What's happening?" someone yelled. "Is it safe to leave?" Several more people began voicing their anxieties at the same time.

"I am certain it is perfectly safe," Theodore answered calmly in a loud and clear voice. "There is nothing for you to worry about, and the matter will be seen to quickly. The patrols and extra soldiers in the town will be more than adequate to ensure your safe passage home." Despite his statement, Theodore spent the next half hour or so continuing to try and reassure the landowners and see them safely from the main gate.

He had just begun helping with the last of the clean up efforts when James arrived with Sergeant Martin's small group. He immediately saw the limp figure being dragged between two marines. "Sir?" he asked.

"Lieutenant, see to it that the gallows are erected as soon as possible, if you please. Sergeant, please see that Sparrow is secured in a cell."

"Aye, Sir," Theodore answered.

It didn't take long for Groves to arrange for the fort's carpenters to begin construction of the gallows, and once he had, he found he could no longer help with clean up, as it had just been finished. Instead, he chose to seek out his friend, to see if he couldn't find out just what had happened at the docks. He would hate to have to hear it from Gillette, as Nathan tended to twist things a little to try and get a rise out of him.

He walked the short distance to James's office, only to find it empty. Knowing Norrington as he did, though perhaps not quite as well as Nathan knew him, he made his way to the barracks and officers' quarters. He had a feeling James wanted to trade his dress uniform for his usual one.

He knocked twice, then entered. He wasn't worried about walking in on the man. As fort commander, and ranking officer of the island, he was privileged to have the largest quarters, consisting of a set of four rooms, though he hadn't moved into them yet. The one he currently lived in had only three rooms, as did the rest of the captains' quarters. One was to use as a small parlor of sorts and the others were comparatively spacious sleeping quarters; one for the fort commander and the other for any servants he might have. "James?"

"One moment," came the reply from one of the other rooms. He emerged moments later straightening a less elaborate waistcoat and the overcoat draped over his arm. He shifted it to the back of a chair and began buttoning the other. "Yes, Theo?"

"It isn't really important, I suppose. I was simply curious who the prisoner was, and what had happened."

"The prisoner is the man who dove in after Miss Swann."

"Then why is he a prisoner? Shouldn't he have been thanked instead?"

"He was thanked." A brief smile passed over James's face, though it had little humor in it. "Then he was revealed to be a pirate. He has a brand on his arm."

"Caught by the East India Company, then?" No doubt her fascination with pirates would only increase now that one had rescued her.

"Indeed, though if an old friend of mine was correct—and it appears to be so—he managed to scrabble his way out of their grasp nearly as quickly."

"So who is he? Have we heard of him?"

"Jack Sparrow. I only heard of him from Duncan, and it was years ago. He matched the description, however, and admitted that that was his name."

Theodore moved back slightly as James picked up his overcoat and swung it around to put it on. " 'Jack Sparrow'. I think I may have actually heard that name a time or two. I can't be certain, though. It seems that he might have been one to never kill unless absolutely necessary." He thought about it a little more. "Wasn't he the one to supposedly sack Nassau Port without a shot?"

"Whether he makes a point of not killing unnecessarily or not is beside the point," James answered, continuing to straighten his shirtsleeves and smooth out uncomfortable wrinkles. "The brand in itself is cause enough to hang him, and as he was planning to take the _Interceptor_, I highly doubt he's reformed himself."

"Was there anyone with him?"

James scoffed. "Only Miss Swann, Murtogg and Mullroy."

Theodore's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "He intended to take the ship without a crew?" At James's amused nod, he continued. "How did he expect to set sails? To weigh anchor? To even make it into whatever port he planned to go to? What would he have done if a storm popped up?"

"I couldn't tell you the inner workings of his mind, Theo. He didn't appear to be anything but incompetent to me." There was something in his tone that sounded like even James questioned that conclusion, though probably not entirely.

"What is it?"

His friend's brow furled in thought and Theodore left him be to sort out whatever he was thinking of. "His escape. He gives the appearance of ineptitude, yet he managed to secure an escape for a while. His brief escape was the cause for the gunfire you heard. He either thinks very quickly on his feet, or has an incredible amount of luck."

"Or both."

James nodded, snatching up his usual hat. "Or both." Theodore stepped aside to allow him through the door, then followed his brisk pace down the hall. "Still, it has no relevance just how he intended to carry out his plan or whether he would have succeeded or not, now. He's secured in a cell until dawn. How were things here after I left?"

"For the most part, they worried for Miss Swann. Mister Williamson gave me a bit of trouble, but no more than usual. He may not be returning to the fort."

"Oh?" James asked, glancing over. "How did you manage that?"

"He worried over whether the fort walls were safe. I told him to go elsewhere and he left. I have a feeling he believes we will make them safer, but he gave the impression that he will not return until we do—which we won't."

"Of course we won't. What does he expect?" James asked as he pushed the door to his office open. "This is a fort of war for the defense of Port Royal and Jamaica, not a London park for him to stroll about and find his entertainment in." Theodore stood and watched as his friend went to his desk and scribbled out a quick note. "I know you're above being a mere messenger, Theo, but would you mind seeing that Captain Brydon receives this?"

Groves gave him a nod. "Of course."

"Thank you."

Seeing that James was settling down to finish what few reports remained, Theodore gave him another quick nod, this time more formal, then left the office to deliver the message. Activity around the fort was finally calming to the typical, late afternoon levels of slight relaxation, and Theodore, for one, couldn't be more pleased. Dealing with people like Frederick Williamson had drained him of far more energy than if he'd just been through a battle at sea and were dealing with its aftereffects.

Hearing footsteps coming up behind him, he moved to the side of the corridor, but whoever it was did not pass him. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

Theodore glanced over, then sighed in mock defeat. "And here I thought I would be rid of you for the rest of the evening."

"You shall never be rid of me, Theo. I thought you had learned that long ago."

"Yes, I believe your exact words had been something along the lines of 'Even if I should die, I'll make certain to find a way to keep you on your toes.' You've yet to go back on that, so naturally, I can only hope for some peace from time to time."

Nathan simply smiled. "You never did answer my question, though. Where are you off to?"

"James asked me to deliver this to Captain Brydon—and don't say anything about my being a lowly messenger. I am doing this as a favor to a friend."

"I wasn't going to. I can well imagine what that message contains, though, if it's going to Brydon."

"Oh?" Groves asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. James hadn't offered any information, and though it wasn't truly any of his business, he couldn't help but wonder.

"My guess is that it is orders for extra target practice. When Sparrow escaped, they shot at him, but came closer to hitting nearby civilians than they did the pirate. If nothing else, James likely wants a bit of common sense used when shooting toward any target with innocents around. The way some shots landed, it wouldn't surprise me to find out some of the marines had their eyes closed when pulling the trigger."

Theodore shook his head. "How did they become so remiss in their skills?"

"I don't know, but I'm certain that if anyone will drill them back into shape, Brydon will."

"He seems to have a talent for it, in any case."

"He has to have."

Theodore shook his head and turned down a new hallway and stopped at the first door. They paused their conversation only long enough for Groves to deliver the message. Once the message was safely in Brydon's hands, he returned his focus to his friend.

"Well, now that that's taken care of, shall we go find a bite to eat?" Gillette asked.

"Is that all you ever think about?" Seeing a hint of what Nathan might be thinking, he quickly added, "Wait, don't answer that. Somehow I feel I really wouldn't want to know what all goes on in that head of yours."

"You're learning."

"No, I'm simply being sensible. You'll only give me a long list of things you want people to think you constantly think of, when actually, you think quite the opposite and really only think of things that truly concern yourself."

"Which is?"

"How you're going to pass the afternoon watch this week aboard the _Dauntless_."

* * *

Like it? Hate it? I'd like to know. I have an insatiable curiosity when it comes to reactions from others. 

**Erusiel:** :D I do hope you're feeling much better.

**moonbeam:** Alrighty then:p

**BlackJackSilver:** I know it's not always the case, but I thought everyone knew what a repair gantry was… shrugs At least that's what I remember them being called somewhere. I can't recall exactly where I saw that, though. I'm glad you liked Chapter 3. It's a relief. I really wasn't sure about it. Writing this one _was_ difficult, and I think it's because it was the fact that I felt limited in what I could actually _do_ there. So much of it is already there, so it was kind of hard to figure out what exactly might be running through his mind and get it to fit smoothly with the existing scene. As for which details I picked out, the missed shots have always glared out at me every time I watch it, and where he went was common sense. :p

**Jaina** **Kenobi:** -WHEW!- I'm glad I'd apparently fret over that chapter for nothing. I'm doubly pleased that you liked it so well:D

**cheska:** Technology can be a pain. I'm glad to see you're still around. :D I'm very pleased to know you liked this chapter, and yes Evans is the lieutenant many call 'Groves'. I've been going by the credits and the Internet Movie Database, which both list him simply as 'officer'. I also don't really care too much for the name 'Groves'. There will be more of him, though how much more, I'm not exactly certain. As for my other story, my mind seems to want to only think of things for this one, and other story ideas are trying to take over from other fandoms. I'm fighting them, though. I'm also trying to plan it out a little better so I have a better idea of where it will go and write accordingly.

**Wellduh**… Perhaps no one else would think to remove their chains in the way Jack did, but nearly everyone always goes straight to a blacksmith or an equivalent place if they've just escaped and are trying to remove their irons. No, nothing too important. As for plot, I'm not entirely sure I had much of one, other than the plot of the movie itself, only in a different, unknown perspective. It was still pretty much set up and filler, though.

**smalldiver:** Thank you! I'm very glad you like my stories so well. The way I see it, everyone has a story, and everyone deserves to have at least a little of that story told. And since I've always been fond of military characters and I haven't seen any other stories in this point of view, I couldn't help myself. :p

**Christine:** Welcome! And thank you very much:D I'm glad they're all in character. I sometimes struggle with that, especially if it's a character I don't particularly like… -cough-Will/Elizabeth-cough- O:) And I look forward to your next review:p

**Rennie1265:** Thank you again for the pointing out those mistakes. I knew muskets and rifles were completely different, and I knew why as well. I had to learn it in a hunter's safety course, and I learned it in history in high school as well. For some reason, I still wrote the wrong word. :(

If anyone catches mistakes, please don't be afraid to tell me. I know I miss them sometimes, and sometimes, I just don't know they exist.

I know I said it last chapter, but I'll be back next weekend, technology, weather and time permitting!

- Gaeruil


	5. Chapter 5

-Matters of Duty-

Disclaimer: Let it be known for all the world to know that if ever I have owned a thing, it most certainly was not the rights to a movie and most assuredly not _Pirates of the Caribbean_.

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_Do something every day that you don't want to do; this is the golden rule for acquiring the habit of doing your duty without pain_. – Mark Twain 

**Chapter 5**

The day had been long and incredibly tiring, and it seemed all James could do to simply make it back to his quarters. By some miracle, he had managed to finish all the day's reports and dispatches, as well as new ones created by Sparrow's arrival and capture so that he wouldn't have to catch up tomorrow. Having eaten, he was also a little weary from that as well.

As he made his way to his quarters, he noticed the men seemed rather subdued. The night was quiet—almost too quiet for his comfort. And there was that fog. Somehow, it seemed strangely familiar, though he couldn't place from where.

Finally, he arrived at the door to his personal quarters. The bed just inside was calling to him with an alluring melody he had no intention of denying. Quietly, as to not disturb others down the hall, he slipped inside, trying his best to quell the door's squeaky hinges. He really needed to have that fixed. He crossed the sitting room, removing his hat and coat as he did so.

He was just grasping for the knob leading to his bed when someone knocked on the main door. Head and shoulders slumping in defeat, he bit back a groan. "Yes?"

"Sir, I'm sorry to disturb you, but Governor Swann wishes to speak with you," Lieutenant Stone called back.

"Now?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so, sir."

James dropped his forehead against the door before him and heaved a sigh. He squeezed his eyes shut, but opened them again almost immediately before he could be further tempted to forget what he'd just heard. He knew if he did that, he'd just go to bed and be inexcusably rude. "One moment." He'd been awake this long, a little while longer wouldn't hurt him.

Taking a deep breath, he gathered what resolve he had left and pushed away from the door, scrubbing some of the sleepiness out of his eyes. He pulled his coat back on and retrieved his hat from the small table by the door. As expected, the young, wiry Gabriel Stone stood just beyond the door. "Did he say what he wished to speak of?"

"No, sir."

James nodded, pulling his wits back together. "Well, it would have to be important, I should think, for him to be here at this time of night. Especially after today's events."

"That was my impression, sir, else I wouldn't have disturbed you."

"Think nothing of it, Lieutenant. I had only just entered my quarters; you disturbed nothing." _Governor Swann did._ "Where is he?"

"Your office, Sir."

James nodded. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Sir," Stone answered with a salute before disappearing down the hall. No doubt on his way to bed.

Within moments, James stood before the door to his office. He entered, only to be presented with the sight of the man closing his snuffbox and warm, stuffy air he knew would only bring yawns and drooping eyelids. "You wanted to see me, Governor?"

"Yes. I wondered if I might speak with you a moment."

"Would you mind if we walk outside as we speak?" James asked. He prayed the governor would find this acceptable, since he had a feeling the movement and the night air would be the only things to keep him awake and alert.

"Of course not! It sounds rather nice, come to think of it," he answered, rising to his feet.

Waiting for the governor to precede him out the door, James asked, "How does your daughter fare this evening?"

"She seems well enough. She insisted there was no need for a doctor, but I will most certainly keep an eye on her for any signs of illness," Swann answered as they made their way outside. "She retired for the night just before I left."

"That is heartening news," James said as they entered the courtyard. The gallows stood ominously in the center, the surrounding torchlight casting just enough light to make out its location. Both were silent until they'd ascended the stairs to the uppermost battlements and came closer to the town-side of the fort.

"Has my daughter given you an answer yet?" the governor asked.

_This_ is what he came here for? At this time of night? Surely this matter could have waited until morning at the very least. "Uh. No, she hasn't." And he didn't blame her if she wanted to think it through, sudden as it was. Even James thought it too sudden. He certainly hadn't planned to ask her to marry him _today_. Too much had happened lately, and he would have preferred to be well settled in his new position. He wanted to be sure he would be able to provide for her.

"Well, she _has_ had a very trying day." James glanced up at him, chuckling lightly. 'Trying' wasn't the word he would have chosen. "Ghastly weather, don't you think?"

James stopped and looked around a little as the governor continued on. He heaved another sigh, wishing once more he were already in bed. "Bleak. Very bleak." It was the most probable cause for the disquiet settled over the fort—over the entire town, he now realized. For a moment, he thought he heard something. Listening carefully, he waited to see if it would repeat itself. It sounded rather like-

"What's that?" the governor asked from where he'd paused ahead.

Hearing a faint whistling, James jerked his head around to look. Another distant thud—a shot! The governor! He sprinted forward. "Cannon fire!" He pushed Swann to the ground, shielded him as two shots plowed into the wall not far away and exploded. He immediately pushed himself back up again. "Return fire!" he called to the guards on the wall. "Men to arms!"

All thought of sleep fled as he sprinted for the wall. He went for the first open section, then looked toward the bay, hoping to locate the attacking ship. He was swiftly forced to duck again as three more shots hit their mark along the fort walls. Behind him, soldiers came pouring out of the fort, gun crews heading straight for their stations.

They immediately began firing, more marines continued to arrive, bringing powder and shot with them. Without looking, he knew others would be lining up along the walls above the gates with their muskets, and others would bring what munitions they would need. Still more would be attempting to calm horses and remove the dead and injured to safety. They knew their duties, he kept his focus on his own duty; on neutralizing that ship.

Another shot whistled by. He glanced back only long enough to see the gallows destroyed. A horse panicked, but shots continued to pound into the walls. The gun crews, like the marines who'd shot at Sparrow, weren't hitting the target.

"Sight the muzzle flash!" he bellowed.

"Aim for the flashes!" someone passed on.

"I need a full strike, fore and aft!" Munitions were low. "Mister Stephens, more cartridges!" He glanced back toward a motion that caught his eye. The governor. The blasted fool was going to get himself killed! It just wasn't safe out here. "Governor, barricade yourself in my office." A shot landing behind somewhere nearby, the sound of it making him flinch. Swann wasn't moving. "That's an order."

There was too much smoke. He couldn't see for certain whether any of their shots were hitting the ship. Musket fire erupted somewhere back to his left. Were they trying to get into the fort? His men would see to them.

Another cannonball plowed into the wall close by—too close. A flying bit of stone struck the swab man on the crew to his immediate right. He rushed forward to help haul the man out, but the whistling of another incoming cannonball heard above the din of their counter fire caught his attention. "Move! Take cover!" he bellowed. He was unable to say anything further as he, himself, was tackled from behind.

The surface below him jolted and shuddered almost the instant his hands made contact with it. Moments later, the soldier on top of him jerked suddenly as something hit him. The man went slack and James had a bit of trouble slipping out from under him. He glanced around quickly to assess the situation. The gun crews were doing their best to get the two cannons operable again, as they didn't seem too damaged at first glance.

James glanced back down at the man at his feet a split-second later, his heart swelling and sinking down to the ends of his toes at the same time, to find a lifeless gaze staring off to the side. This man had saved his life, sacrificing his own to do so. James forced his feelings on the matter aside for the moment. Now wasn't the time to dwell on it.

He glanced around again. The fort was chaotic, but it was a rather organized chaos. One he expected, as some ran back and forth for additional munitions or hauled dead or wounded to safety. He looked again to the two cannons. They were apparently more damaged than originally thought; their carriages all but destroyed at crucial spots. Their crews sought to rig repairs as quickly as possible.

"Commodore!" James turned at the sound of Lieutenant Stone's voice. The younger man was sprinting up the nearby stairs toward him, dodging debris and soldiers, both moving and unmoving alike. He stopped in front of him, extending a sword. "I happened to see you were unarmed, sir."

James took the sword, swiftly hooking it around his waist. "Thank you, Mister Stone," he muttered hastily. He noted it was his new one and hoped he wouldn't have to use it, since it was, as yet, untried in battle. The lieutenant then passed a pistol to him, which James immediately recognized as the one his grandfather had given him when he made post captain. "What can you report?"

"Not much I'm afraid, sir. I've been helping to secure documents and orders inside."

"The governor is safe?"

Stone passed him his telescope. "He is. I saw him secured myself."

James gave a short nod. "The-"

"They're in the fort!" interrupted a cry from the gates. The air was immediately filled with gunshots as marines no doubt sought to keep them contained.

James whirled back around to face the bay. Though not guaranteed, this might prove to be the best time to try and remove the threat from the bay. He brought his telescope up and searched dark waters below. He found only vague, dark shapes, as clouds obscured the moon, making the night darker than it would have been.

There was nothing to see, really, for what seemed the longest amount of time, then suddenly, the muzzle of a cannon flared, giving him something to focus on. He found himself gazing at more defined dark mass—a black one that blended easily into night's shadows. He couldn't help the very slight tremor that worked its way down his spine as he realized what ship sat in the bay.

The _Black Pearl_.

While he wasn't naturally inclined to believe in some of the myths and superstitions of the island, they had seeped into his mind and awareness anyway. One couldn't help it after spending so many years away from England and the conventions found there. That ship had a reputation for leaving no survivors and now it was here in the port he was duty-bound to protect.

The _Black Pearl_ was believed to be a phantom ship by many, but James still had enough sense left to know the cannonballs hitting the fort walls were real. There was no way a phantom ship could fire real shots; it simply wasn't possible. Therefore, the ship must also be real, and if it was real, then it was not indestructible.

He lowered his telescope, but kept his eye on the ship's location. He moved to the nearest gun crew, and only then did he allow his gaze to shift away from the ship. "Mister Connor! Center of the bay, straight out along one point off the _Interceptor_'s larboard bow. She's black, so she'll be difficult to see!"

"Aye, sir!" several gun captains, including Connor, yelled back.

The next rounds of cannon fire began. The winds worked against them, however, blowing the smoke back into their eyes. James was unable to see if they were hitting their target or if they were even getting anywhere close to hitting it.

Finally, after some time, the attacking ship ceased firing on the town. The sudden silence from the bay was disquieting and, quite frankly, unnerved him somewhat. What were they doing? What did they have planned? Would they leave the town alone, or lull them into a false sense of security before renewing the attack?

He wished he could see what was going on, but there was too much fog and smoke in the air.

"Hold fire!" James called. There was no point in wasting shot and powder. He glanced behind him. Fires burned in many locations, wounded moaned, and some stone clattered down from piles of rubble. He wondered just how much more damage the _Black Pearl_ would wreak on the town.

Over the next while, James Norrington sat tense, constantly checking the harbor hoping to catch site of the dark ship. No further shots came from the bay, but he couldn't allow himself to relax just yet. While many horrifying tales spread around this area of the world about the _Black Pearl_, there was still an element of truth that had to be behind the rumors. There were still towns that had been all but obliterated. There were still ships that had been blown from the water with no survivors.

It was at least an hour before he moved from his watch; before he allowed the gun crews begin post-engagement procedures.

Turning, he found himself looking at Lieutenant Stone. "All is secure, Sir. Clean-up efforts are well underway, and many of the wounded have already been moved inside and are being cared for," the younger man said before he could ask.

"Have we encountered any shortages in supplies?"

"Not as yet, though bandages may begin to run low soon. They did not think it would happen, however."

"The governor?"

"I am well," Swann said, interrupting them as he stepped up from behind them. "If you don't mind, however, I would like to go home and make certain Elizabeth is safe."

James nodded. "Misters Murtogg, Mullroy, Lewis and North will accompany you." The governor nodded his agreement and sharply turned, quickly making his way out the gates. James turned back to the tasks at hand. The fort was a mess, and it would take quite some time to clean it up and complete repairs.

* * *

Love it? Detest it? Find it so absolutely revolting that you wish it would never again show its vile face upon this earth? Or perhaps you love it so much that you would spout an unending stream of sonnets in its favor. –laughs at self- Or _maybe_ there's some sort of happy medium or some level of like or dislike that you'd be willing to share. :p No matter what you feel, I'd like to know one way or the other—just so long as you're polite about it, that is... 

**Erusuiel:** Sorry. I tried to wait. Really, I did. :s :(

**Wellduh…:** It certainly wouldn't surprise me if they shot some civilians. I just laugh every time I watch that part of the movie—though part of me scowls as well—to see so many squeezing their eyes shut while the musket goes off. As for the rest…true. So very true. But they still almost always immediately go for the blacksmith's shop in the movies… Thank you muchly for reviewing:D

**smalldiver:** Thank you! I'm glad the banter appeared so easy. Actually, it seems like it was very easy when it just came to me the day I wrote that bit. I love it when that happens. Less difficult that way. ;) Said confrontation when Will interrupts is, sadly, not yet written. I've had a bit of an unfortunate and annoying bout of writer's block. I am doing my best to 'baby-step' my way through it, though. As for 'seeming to have something in for Will', what can I say? I can't stand the guy. I loathe, detest and abhor his character. He's a complete idiot, and (to be honest) don't care much for the actor portraying him either. I'm sure he can be a very good person. I just think that he couldn't act to save his life and it certainly wouldn't hurt him to take a few (more if necessary—_lots_ more) acting classes.

**moonbeam:** WHEW! If he's not as stiff as he was in the movie, then my work here is done. Military and duty do not necessarily make one inhumanly impersonal, as I've always thought. ;) :p And I didn't mean that in any offensive sort of way at all or anything. Just commenting and being rather silly. And I'll keep emailing with an alert for you, if you so desire it. ;) Thanks a bunch for your comment:)

**tinkerbell:** You're welcome! For now, yes it is beginning to pick up. If only hope I can keep it up and get my brain functioning and writing again. Thanks for the review!

**Jaina Kenobi:** Why, thank you very much! Actually, I just needed filler—haha! just kidding. I had started out writing Evans reacting to the civilian reactions as if they had already happened, but I didn't like how it was turning out and had to step back in time to be happy with it. And yes, praise is praise and can't be called otherwise, else it wouldn't be, and I am very much appreciative of any praise I can get. :D :p

**Cheska:** Thank you for the feedback! I'm glad you liked the last chapter:D And the quote. It took me a bit trying to decide just what to use. As I am for this chapter's quote. I still haven't figured out what to use and so, am writing out my review responses while I try to pick one out. My best friend and beta always says to stick to one story at a time to keep from being overloaded. I'm finding that to be a good philosophy to follow. Especially with three literature classes to worry about on top of writing and everything else. Ai! What was I thinking? You think writing two stories at once would be a piece of cake for me? hehehe (Sorry for the chuckles.) To be honest, I've only written _maybe_ twenty sentences for _this_ story in the last three weeks or so. It was only having chapters ahead that's allowed me to post these last two weekends. I _did_ get chapter six finished earlier this week, though, but I'm really struggling through seven. It's just not wanting to cooperate with me at all yet. I'm still hopeful, though. After all, I still have two weeks before its deadline is here (I'm hopeful I can keep it, but I'm afraid I can't make any promises). I will finish them, though. Don't doubt it.

**Gina:** Yeah, I kind of figure, but I also think that one can be very accurate with a musket if they've trained enough and know the weapon well enough. Plus, it was just one of my ways of drawing attention to the fact that when I watch the movie, I see several of those soldiers firing the guns with their eyes shut. :p As for the sequel for LM, it isn't so much a sequel as the parent story. And I've been trying to get my mind to focus on this and that story, but it doesn't want to. I will likely be able to focus more on it once I get this one done at the very least. I'm also reorganizing my outline of it, and that will take a bit of time to get it how I want it, as well. Don't doubt that it will get written, though…

Thank you all again for the wonderful feedback! May your week be blessed and safe.

I'll do my absolute best to update next weekend.

- Gaeruil


	6. Chapter 6

-Matters of Duty-

My most deepest and sincerest apologies for the long delay in posting. School and writer's block are so evil. Especially writer's block, which I have decided is actually a duct tape-armored cockroach. Very hard to get rid of.

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing.

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_Action springs not from thought, but from a readiness for responsibility_. – Dietrich Bonhoeffer 

**Chapter 6**

It was only a few hours before dawn when the gun crews had relaxed and began their post-battle procedures and repairs. Under James's care and watchful eye, the chaos enveloping the fort had been swiftly organized. The wounded were given first priority, as common sense dictated, followed by repairs and gathering the dead.

"Captain Pierce, I want you to take your men out into the town and see what can be done to help the people. Your horses might be able to help pull the heavier debris from those that may be trapped," James said to the commander of the local division of dragoons.

"Yes, sir," the captain of the mounted soldiers replied. With a salute, the man then turned sharply on his heel and left.

"Mister Dunn, Mister Harding, what are your current estimates on how long repairs will take?"

A thoughtful look crossed both faces. "Several weeks. Anywhere from two to four; more if the damage is more extensive. I'll know more once the sun rises," Harding, the fort mason, said.

"It'd be best if I could get a better look at what we're up against in sunlight," Dunn, the carpenter, answered.

James nodded. "See what you can do in the meantime. Please keep me posted as well. Sergeant Glasdon, I want you to check on the prisoners."

"Yes, Sir," the three replied.

"Gillette, I want you to-"

"She's gone!" Nathan and his commander both whirled around to see a frantic Governor Swann rushing toward them. "They've taken her! You have to do something! Now!"

"Your daughter?" James asked.

"Of course Elizabeth! Who do you think I mean? The queen of Sheba?"

"Of course not. I beg your pardon, I was merely making certain. Don't worry. We'll go after her."

"When? I hope you mean to go now."

"We will go after the sun has risen."

" 'After the sun has risen'? If you wait _that_ long, perhaps I should simply start planning a memorial service!"

"Governor, with all due respect, I understand that you are upset—and rightfully so! I know you are very anxious to find her, but in order to do that properly, there are some things that must be done first. Not only will search routes need to be set and organized, but ships will need supplies, and I must ensure that the fort will be repaired as soon as possible. I cannot leave the town undefended," James said, his tone reasonable. "Are you absolutely certain she was taken? That she isn't merely hiding somewhere?"

"Estrella?" the governor called. Nathan stood by while the governor gestured for a maid to come forward from where she stood between Murtogg and Mullroy. "Please tell Commodore Norrington what you told me."

The maid gave a slight curtsy. "Th-the pirates, sir. The-they came into the house! The-they shot poor Mister Waddling! They sacked the house and the last I saw them, they were dragging Miss Swann with them! I-I told her to hide, sir, but she told _me_ to, and to come here. I-I'm sorry. I should have-"

"Easy now," James interrupted, attempting to soothe the distraught woman. "You did what you could. That's far more than anyone might have been able to do. At least you had a chance to try, and you _did_ get away unmolested."

"I suppose you're right," the woman answered. Nathan saw his friend give her a kind look.

"So what do you propose we do if we aren't going to go after Elizabeth right away?" the governor asked. Though he knew the man must be at his wits end with worry, the young lieutenant couldn't help but hope he would at least calm down a little soon. If he didn't, it might bleed into James's concentration and affect the manner in which he performed his duty.

The last thing they needed was for their commander to lose focus.

"Governor," James began gently, inadvertently catching the attention of nearly everyone nearby. "Would I be correct in my assumption that you've had no sleep tonight?" Apparently, he'd been thinking the same thing.

"You would, but I don't see how that has any importance at the moment. If you're suggesting I go home to a wrecked manor and try to sleep, knowing that my daughter is in grave danger, you're mad!"

Nathan glanced to his commander, who forced a very brief smile. He could see a great wealth of underlying worry, however, which he saw his friend push firmly away from his mind to focus on what needed to be done now. "I'm suggesting nothing of the sort. Rather I was going to offer you the use of my personal quarters where you might be able to gather your thoughts in solitude. It _has_ been a long, eventful and trying day, after all."

The governor started a little, then appeared to contemplate the suggestion. "Yes. Yes, I think that idea has some merit. I think I shall. Thank you."

Gillette stifled the smile that threatened to erupt, and he was forced to redouble his efforts as he caught the rather smug spark in James's eyes that could only be seen by those who knew him fairly well. James gave a small nod, then turned his gaze aside slightly. "Lieutenant Stone, will you please escort Governor Swann to my quarters?"

"Of course, sir. Right this way, Governor."

"Mister Murtogg, Mister Mullroy, will you please escort…" he trailed off, looking in the maid's direction inquiringly.

"Miss Wood, Sir."

James smiled kindly. "Will you please escort Miss Wood to any place she would like to go?"

"Uh- Yes, sir," Mullroy answered for the both of them.

Finally, James returned his attention to Nathan. "As I was saying, Gillette, I need you to go check on the _Dauntless_ and the _Interceptor_. I need to know if they were damaged in the attack and whether they will be sea-worthy by daybreak at the very earliest."

"Aye, sir," Nathan answered with a salute. He left James to his task of returning the fort to order. As he made his way down to the docks, he gathered some sailors and carpenters with whom he served aboard the ship of the line at the mouth of the bay.

He found the town, especially areas close to shore, to be more chaotic than the fort. It was something he attributed to their lack of military training and experience in such cases, but they were also pulling together to help each other. It was slower than at the fort, but it was getting done, nonetheless.

Stepping onto the docks where the _Interceptor_ lay berthed, the sound of hammers and orders gave him pause. It seemed some of his fellows had had the same idea of checking on the ship. "Captain Reynolds," he acknowledged with a salute.

"Lieutenant Gillette," The man returned with a nod. "I assume you were sent to see if either naval ship were damaged?"

"Aye, sir. The governor's daughter was taken in the attack, and Commodore Norrington needs to know if we would be able to pursue them."

"Miss Swann?" Reynolds asked. "Well the _Interceptor_ will most certainly be ready once she's been restocked. She came through unscathed for the most part. There was a bit of damage to the woodwork, but it's already being repaired."

"I'll pass the word along to the commodore if I see him first, then. I shall leave you to your task and see to my own." The captain nodded, and Gillette replied with a salute, then returned to the men further down the docks. The group then made their way out to the boats they'd use to row out to the larger ship.

Once there, the carpenters and sailors scrambled up onto the ship. Over the next hour or so, they covered every inch of the ship, searching for even the smallest evidence of damage while Gillette spoke with those on watch. Finally, as the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, Mister Langley, the ship's master carpenter approached him with his report.

"We've combed e'ry inch of 'er, sir, an' there ain't so much as a teeny scratch in 'er paint."

"You're certain?" Nathan asked.

"Quite, sir. It might 'ave been dark, but we could see well enough wif our lan'erns. No damage, sir."

Nathan gave him a quick nod. "Thank you, Mister Langley. We shall return to shore, then, and see if we might be able to help there for the time being."

The trip back to the docks was as quiet as the trip out had been. The only sounds were the oars entering and exiting the water, the creak of wood, what words were necessary to keep the men rowing together and the sounds of clean-up efforts echoing across the bay. In the increasing light, the damage to the town and ships in the bay was revealed. It looked bad, but Gillette knew it could have been far worse.

Arriving at the docks, he jumped out of the boat and hurried back to the fort with his own report. He was surprised that no one stopped him to ask if they planned to pursue the pirates as he'd thought they would. Normally, when a ship limped in after being attacked by pirates, the local owners or merchants the shipments were meant for would seize the first officer they saw and badger him until their concerns were seen to. Entering the fort, he immediately saw why.

What appeared to be every merchant, civilian ship captain and most of the wealthier residents had cornered James much like a pack of hunting dogs would a fox.

The fact that they were all shouting and demanding immediate action only sharpened that impression.

He caught Norrington's eye, and an expression of deep relief immediately spread across his face. He watched as James tried to excuse himself, but those surrounding him continued to ignore anything he tried to say that wasn't what they wanted to hear. The merchant captains were a slightly more polite and understanding, which only served to prove that the residents of Port Royal seemed to take the naval presence for granted.

When James began shouting, but still seemed to be largely ignored, Nathan pulled his pistol and fired. This finally caught their attention and silenced them. Seeing the dry, chastising look Norrington shot him, he twisted his expression into one of pure innocence.

"I know all of you are concerned, but rest assured the pirates will be pursued. The best thing you can do to help at this time is to return to your home, ship or business and assist with the clean-up," James said, his tone one of obvious dismissal, leaving no room for argument. "Now, if you will please excuse me, I've other duties to see to. Lieutenant?"

Nathan waited until some of the nearby marines had ushered the civilians out of the way before approaching his commander. "The _Dauntless_ has no damage, though the _Interceptor_ had a little—none of which will effect performance-"

"So Reynolds's lieutenant said."

Since he already heard that much, Nathan changed course. "The men aboard the _Dauntless_ said they would have fired on the pirates had they had a clear shot. Merchant ships were in their way much of the time, and the fog and darkness obscured their vision when they did not. They did mention attempting a shot or two when the pirates left."

"Strange…I neither saw nor heard any shots that might have come from them," James mused aloud.

"I am only repeating what I was told, sir." Nathan stepped back, then, as a large table was brought in by four marines. Lieutenant Stone was right behind them carrying what he knew to be charts of the area.

"Commodore!" one of the watches called from his position on the battlements. "_Implacable_ returning to port!"

Nathan's gaze jerked toward the marine in confusion. Roger Teasdale and his crew had just left port yesterday afternoon. He shouldn't have returned so early. Had he somehow detected the attack? Had something happened to the ship or crew that required them to return? Had they been attacked by the _Black Pearl_ as well?

Beside him, Norrington nodded and returned to the charts to plan one of the search routes. Now that the _Implacable_ was coming back—assuming she was still sea-worthy—they could have three routes instead of two. Though he hid it very well, Nathan could see James was worried for the governor's daughter, and he was as well—suspected all who knew of it were. Pirates were a dangerous sort, and were not to be taken lightly no matter what romanticized tale one was enthralled by. He saw, too, that there was a depth to that worry that went beyond the typical worry for a fellow subject of the crown. _Don't worry, James,_ he thought. _We'll find her._

Whether she would be unharmed was the question, however.

And the odds were against her.

* * *

Like it? Hate it? I'd like to know either way. 

Again, I'm very sorry for the delay in posting this latest chapter.

Since it's been so long since I updated, I think I'll just post a general response to everyone to answer questions and concerns and such. I hope y'all don't mind. First off, I'm very glad everyone likes the story. It really means a lot that it's an enjoyable story and even it means even more that you review with such wonderful comments. Welcome, **ellennar**, **Alteng**, **wyntre-rose**, and **Emx**. I hope you continue to review.

I'm not sure if that's the same Samuel Beckett. To be honest, I get my quotes from a couple quotes books and from websites. Occasionally, I might find my quotes from other books I read.

My stories will always be clean. I personally can't see how bad language and more graphic scenes can help a story or a movie or even a conversation. In my opinion, they only get in the way of what's being said.

I know I've said it multiple times, but I'm glad everyone likes how I write the characters and the story itself. Your reviews motivate me to write. Even now, struggling with writer's block as I am, your reviews keep me wanting to finish this story. I can't promise when the next update will be, but I hope to get my mind back into this and get it finished in the way I originally planned.

- Gaeruil


	7. Chapter 7

-Matters of Duty-

Author's Note: I'm so incredibly sorry for the delay. Writer's block hit hard last fall, and I've only recently started thinking of things to write again and even those ideas were for other projects I have going. I'm going to try to update this more regularly, but I'm afraid that's going to be tenuous at best.

Disclaimer: Still not mine, and I'm still not gaining anything of monetary value from it.

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"_Much has been given us, and much will rightfully be expected from us. We have duties to others and duties to ourselves; and we can shirk neither."_ - Theodore Roosevelt 

**Chapter 7**

"James, did you even hear me? When was the last time you slept?"

James bit back a groan at the whispered question and wished Nathan wasn't so persistent all the time. This was, at the very least, the fifth time in the last half hour or so that his friend had asked. While it was nice to know he had friends who worried about him, it disrupted the scant concentration he had left.

At least his younger friend was discreet.

"Night before last, I believe," he muttered in reply. In truth, he hadn't really gotten as much rest as he would have liked that night, either. He had spent more time than he'd expected on several monthly reports bound for England.

"You've had no sleep at all? In nearly two days?" came the astonished response.

"I've had no opportunity to, Nathan." And it had been barely more than one full day. That hardly counted as 'nearly two'. James glanced up in time to see Gillette nod then returned his gaze to the chart spread out before him.

Between the merchants and other civilians inquiring on military plans and demanding action, he had managed to scrape together a search route that would take Captain Teasdale and the _Implacable_ east. There, the agile ship should be better suited to maneuver amongst the islands and still utilize her slightly faster speeds. Having just set out for their regular patrol yesterday afternoon—only to return on a gut feeling—the ship would be leaving again as soon as they gained extra supplies and new orders.

They would also be carrying a notice of Miss Swann's abduction and the impending search to Admiral Coulter.

" 'No opportunity?' How could that be? _Make_ an opportunity!" Nathan said.

"My only opportunity was prevented by Governor Swann and then the attack. I would advise you to drop the matter, Lieutenant."

Nathan tried to hide his sigh, but James still heard it. "Aye, sir."

"Commodore, some coffee." James glanced up once again to see Lieutenant Stone set a small porcelain cup down. He eyed the steaming drink with disdain. Stone's expression turned to worry. "It was Lieutenant Groves's suggestion, sir."

"I'm certain it was," James muttered, trying to make the best of the situation. The young man meant well, after all. It wasn't Stone's fault for not yet knowing he found coffee to be utterly revolting. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

The young man, not much more than a boy, really, tipped his head and stepped back. To help further show that he truly appreciated the effort, James even took a very small sip. He barely managed to keep from grimacing. Judging from the amused smirk on Nathan's face, he had the impression the coffee wasn't entirely Theodore's idea.

With a quiet sigh, he set the cup aside and finished writing out the first set of orders. "Lieutenant Stone, please deliver these to Captain Teasdale," he said as he sealed the documents.

"Aye, sir," the young man answered with a touch to his hat.

He departed and James turned once again to his charts. "Gillette, give me a hand with this chart."

"Aye, sir."

The new chart before him, James smoothed his hand down along South America's northern coastlines. His gaze followed close behind, taking in as many details as possible. He made a mental list of port reputations, then began writing down a few notes of what ports he wanted Captain Reynolds to check.

Or rather he tried to.

"Norrington!" a loud, resonating voice barked. James nearly sagged in defeat. He had hoped to make it out of port before being bothered with Frederick Williamson. "I hope you have a good explanation for this travesty! McDonald never let an attacking ship into this port! Two of my shipments are ruined!"

James's head began throbbing and it took every ounce of will he had left to keep from pinching the bridge of his nose. Why Williamson had waited this long before coming to complain was a mystery. "Mister Williamson-"

"_Two_ shipments, Norrington! Have you any idea how much that will cost me?"

"Mister Wi-"

The man continued relentlessly. James tuned him out and returned his attention to more immediate concerns. Elizabeth was somewhere out there alone, and no doubt beyond frightened—possibly even in considerable pain. He refused to even think about the more extreme possibilities.

"Are you even listening to me?" Williamson snapped, breaking into his concentration once again.

James slowly brought his gaze back up from the table. He leveled as intense a look as he could manage at the offending man and held it. He took great satisfaction when Williamson began squirming.

Fate, however, was apparently not in a charitable mood today.

Just as the landowner was beginning to sweat and back away, Governor Swann appeared. "Has there been any progress in finding where they've taken my daughter?"

Williamson's gaze, which had been fixed on Swann as he spoke, snapped back to James with a scowl. "Is no one safe in this port anymore? This is incompetence at its highest mark, Norrington!"

Deliberately, James turned his focus solely to the governor. "Orders have just been delivered to the _Implacable_. They'll depart shortly."

Swann nodded. He obviously didn't approve of how the search was being organized—or at least the rate of action—but James was doing all he felt he was capable of. The possibility of tracking your opponent was virtually non-existent at sea. To do so, you had to either know every aspect of the other man's thought processes, or you kept the other sails in sight.

"And what are you going to do about my shipments?"

James braced his hands against the table and leaned forward, focusing on the demanding annoyance standing before him with a harsh glare. "Mister Williamson, your shipments are _not_ my immediate concern. One of His Majesty's subjects has been taken from her home by these pirates. She is a living, breathing person. Bringing her home as quickly and safely as possible is my top priority, and at the moment, you are nothing but a hindrance to my efforts. As of now, you have but two choices: you can either still your tongue and accompany these fine soldiers to the gate of the fort and go home, or you can continue your demands and accompany them to the jail. I leave it to you."

While two marines escorted the bewildered man away, James returned his attention to the task before him. He was never going to get anything accomplished if every man in town kept coming to demand something further of him. He pushed away all thoughts of anything not directly necessary to finding Elizabeth, and managed to make some real progress over the next little while.

"What exactly are you doing to find Elizabeth?" the governor asked some time later.

James stiffened. He had nearly forgotten the distraught father pacing behind him. "Have you eaten anything this morning?" he asked instead, glancing briefly over his shoulder.

The governor started, obviously not expecting such a question. "A little. I've hardly any appetite, though, with her somewhere. . .out. . .there in danger," he said, gesturing vaguely beyond the walls of the fort. James didn't have the heart to tell him he was pointing more inland than toward the sea.

"At least you were able to eat something at all," James answered. He bent to his work again, straightening only moments later to remove his hat before resuming his previous stance.

After that, he lost track of the exact time while he worked. He was immensely relieved when Captain Reynolds arrived and offered assistance in finishing the last two search routes. With his help, it went much faster. Especially since their exchange kept him more alert and focused.

Finally, they finished Reynolds's course and were able to turn to the northern waters. "Lieutenant, return this chart to my office if you please," James said. Stone quickly gathered the South American charts and left.

"They've taken her! They've taken Elizabeth!"

James stifled the urge to roll his eyes, though his bent head would have easily hid such an action. He didn't have time for this. "Mister Murtogg, remove this man."

"We have to hunt them down. We must save her."

James suppressed a sigh and tried to keep working through this latest distraction.

"And where do you propose we start? If you have any information concerning my daughter, _please_ share it."

"That Jack Sparrow," Murtogg began, hesitantly. James glanced up, intrigued. "He talked about the _Black Pearl_."

"Uh, mentioned it is more what he did," Mullroy corrected. James returned his attention to his charts for the umpteenth time that morning.

"Ask him where it is. Make a deal with him. He could lead us to it."

"No." James let out a deep breath, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. The past twenty-four—no, twenty-eight—hours were catching up with him quickly now, and Turner's eager desire to try and help were only aggravating the nasty headache already well on its way in developing. The boy was mostly only stating what they had now known for hours. "The pirates who invaded this fort left Sparrow locked in his cell, _ergo_ they are _not_ his allies." He turned toward the governor and answered the question he had asked earlier. "Governor, we will establish their most likely course and-"

A loud thump on the table drew his attention yet again. He turned to find Turner had buried the head of his hatchet deep into the wooded top, pinning his charts down as well. He took note that the blade had fallen right between Cuba and Hispaniola.

"That's not good enough!"

Unaffected, James glanced up at the younger man. He had put up with civilian dramatics all morning, and was, quite frankly, sick of it. "Mister Turner," he began, pulling the hatchet free easily and walked around the table. "You are not a military man. You are not a sailor." He allowed himself a small smirk. "You are a _blacksmith_." He reached out and grabbed the young man by the arm, firmly directing him back in the direction he'd come from. "And this is _not_ the moment for _rash_ actions." He lowered his voice so no one else would hear. "Do not make the mistake of thinking you are the only man here who cares for Elizabeth," he finished, grabbing Will's hand and guiding the tool back into it with a snap before sending him on his way.

Without even bothering to see if the boy took the dismissal for what it was, James turned back to charting a search course for the _Dauntless_. There were still so many things he had left to do before they departed, and if interruptions continued to plague him, he would never get anything accomplished. He was even tempted to post guards to prevent any interruptions by anyone not wearing a uniform.

Returning to the table, he allowed his thoughts to briefly touch on what he still had to do at the fort. There were duties like seeing to the wounded, speaking with the fort surgeons and physicians about how many had lost their lives, who they were, and how many were injured. He would also like to know who was not expected to survive. There was also the task of finding a commander for the fort in his and Captain Teasdale's absences.

There was simply too much to do.

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Like it? Hate it? I'd appreciate the feedback. 

Thanks again for reading and for your reviews:-D

-Gaeruil


	8. Chapter 8

-Matters of Duty-

Author's Note: I know it's been an _incredibly_ long time since I've updated this. Rest assured I have absolutely no intention of giving up on it, even if it might be a while in between updates. I'm not sure when the next update for this story will be, since I've finally got something somewhat figured out for the story that would've taken place around the same time as Little Miracles. I've been working on it for the last few weeks and hope to get several chapters finished on it that I'll be comfortable enough to post it online. Please also note that I've made a few revisions to the previous chapters in this story. They're not major—in fact, you may not recognize them at all; most dealt with punctuation anyway.

Disclaimer: I am in no way rich. There's no feasible way I could possibly own any of this. Also, I don't own the bits of movie dialogue that pop up in the scenes that are actually in the movie.

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_Everyone is perfectly willing to learn from unpleasant experience -- if only the damage of the first lesson could be repaired._ - Georg C. Lichtenberg 

**Chapter 8**

"Lash that down, Man!" a voice called from somewhere within the ship. Theodore recognized it as Connor O'Brian, the quartermaster. He sounded rather irritated, but with the attack and consequent rush to get everything in order; the ships restocked and everything else, irritation was becoming common.

Not that he could blame anyone for it.

The situation was tense and a few merchants were still giving them a few problems. The navy was also operating with fewer men, though that wasn't necessarily a hindrance. There were enough extra men to help fill in the ranks.

Men from town had volunteered as well.

"Our route will take us south, gentlemen. We shall run parallel to the northern coast of South America and restock only as necessary. It is possible the _Black Pearl_ may have taken Miss Swann in that direction," Captain Reynolds said.

They stood well out of the way of the soldiers and sailors who were bringing the necessary supplies in a steady stream. The _Interceptor_ was nearly stocked, now, and then they would depart so the _Dauntless_ could be berthed and restocked as well. Theodore knew, however, that Norrington was growing impatient. From what he had been told, there had been several delays already.

"Lieutenant Groves."

"Aye, sir?"

"Please inform Commodore Norrington that all our supplies appear to be aboard ship and in order. Also tell him that we have finalized our course and are ready to depart at his leave."

Theodore nodded. "Aye, sir." He turned, but a faint shout caught his attention. He glanced around looking for the source and saw Gillette heading for the docks in a longboat rather than at his post aboard ship. He was waving frantically and alternately pointing back. "Commodore."

"Sir, they've taken the _Dauntless_!" Gillette was yelling. The snap of a book closing drew his focus away and down in time to take the extended log in James's hand. Norrington drew out his glass. "Commodore!" Gillette continued. "They've taken the ship! Sparrow and Turner! They've taken the _Dauntless_!"

Theodore couldn't see much that was going on, but wondered how Nathan had managed this. He and his men outnumbered a mere two.

"Rash, Turner," Norrington said. "Too rash." He lowered his telescope. "That is without doubt the worst pirate I've ever seen."

"Why did Nathan let them have the ship, I wonder?" Theodore asked quietly as he turned with James.

"I'm not certain, but I _will_ have a word with him," he answered just as quietly. "Captain Reynolds! I need swift passage to the _Dauntless_ and your assistance."

Absently, Theodore set the leather folder down and followed the other officers aboard ship. Ahead, his younger friend was making slow progress in the small rowboat. He felt sorry for Nathan for the dressing down he was sure to get, but on the other hand, it did seem a rather stupid decision to let two men have- Then he saw Gillette's reasoning, or thought he did.

How would just two men sail a ship like that?

Still, Nathan should have just taken them into custody.

Around him, orders were issued by the ship's master to set sail. Course was set alongside the larger ship. Theodore brought his full attention to the conversation between Norrington and Reynolds.

"There are only the two of them, correct?" Reynolds was saying. "How would just two men sail a ship that size by themselves?"

"He's up to something," was Norrington's answer. "He's a terrible pirate, but he's planning something; what, I don't know. I can feel it in my bones."

"Even if he is, what could it possibly be? Respectfully, sir, I tell you if we hit them with every man we've got; if we search the ship thoroughly, we'll have them in irons in no time at all."

Theodore watched as James deliberated the plan for several moments. "Very well, we'll try it this way," he finally said.

Reynolds smiled and issued the orders to the other officers and crew.

Theodore knew Norrington must have had some reservations, but he also knew the commodore was running with little sleep. He was sure to be annoyed by young Turner's actions as well and it was getting the better of him. Theodore didn't blame him one bit, considering what the scuttlebutt of the morning had been. It had been a trying night and morning for them all.

Still, how would those two men—one of whom was completely ignorant of matters of the sea—get underway?

After several more minutes, they pulled alongside the larger ship of the line. Marines, who'd climbed into the rigging, grabbed hold of loose lines. "Release grapples!" Sergeant Harrison called out.

Grappling hooks were thrown and caught along the _Dauntless_ railings and anchored the _Interceptor_; those lines snapped taut and already, Theodore could hear them already singing with the stress. The marines overhead swung on across while gangplanks were maneuvered into position.

"Search every cabin, every hold, down to the bilges," James ordered. The marines and sailors continued swarming aboard the ship and did as told.

Theodore crossed the plank not far behind his friend. Setting foot on the main deck, he glanced around and found James. He hurried to catch up.

The sound of wood scraping on wood and the subsequent splashes caught his attention.

He glanced back, along with a few others, to find the smaller ship was moving away and out to sea.

"Sailors, back to the _Interceptor_!" James bellowed. "Now!"

"Quickly, men!" Harrison called out.

But it was already too late.

Overhead, one of the sailors swung out for the ship, only to land in the water several meters behind the _Interceptor_'s stern. Theodore hurried to the rail and stopped just behind James.

At the helm of the other vessel, the man soldiers had dragged into the fort just yesterday took of his hat and waved it. "Thank you, Commodore, for getting us ready to make way! We'd have had a hard time of it by ourselves!" he taunted.

The marines opened fire on them, causing the pirate and the blacksmith to duck. Theodore couldn't help looking on with a new sense of respect for the pirate. _Clever little devil_, he thought.

Abruptly, Norrington pushed himself away from the rail and stalked toward the quarterdeck. "Set topsails and clear up this mess."

Theodore followed, confused. _Just topsails?_ "Without the wind at quarter astern, we won't catch them."

James half-turned as he started up the stairs. "I don't need to catch them. Just get them in range of the long nines."

Theodore bit down on his next comment. Norrington was frustrated enough as it was. "Hands, come about! Run out the guns!" He lowered his voice. "We are to fire on our own ship, sir?"

"I'd rather see her at the bottom of the ocean than at the hands of a pirate." James leaned forward and gripped the rail tightly.

"Commodore, he's disabled the rudder chain, sir," called Mister Hawke.

From somewhere near the bow, Gillette's voice could be heard shouting something before they felt vibrations and heard smashing wood.

James lowered his head, but Theodore barely noticed. He was focusing on the ship gaining distance. The seemingly scatter-brained pirate had pulled it off, and brilliantly so. "That's got to be the best pirate I've ever seen."

Norrington's head rose. "So it would seem."

Theodore turned his attention to James. At his friend's dark tone, he suddenly realized what the implications of Sparrow's astonishing move might mean for his two friends. The Lords of the Admiralty would be most displeased.

On either side of the ship, sailors, marines and a wigless, hatless Nathaniel Gillette were helped over the railing. The younger lieutenant looked positively miserable as he stood there dripping on the deck.

James's attention fell briefly on Gillette, who flinched, then returned to the officer on his right. "Captain Reynolds, I want the _Dauntless_ cleared of any impediments to her performance, restocked, and ready to sail within four hours at the very latest. See that it gets done," he said. His voice was tight; firm. Dangerous.

"Aye, sir," Reynolds said.

James turned on his heel and took the two steps that would place him at the rail overlooking the main deck. "Lieutenant Gillette, I would like a word with you in my cabin," he said.

"Aye, sir," Nathan said softly. Head bowed, he quickly followed his commander into the relative privacy of the captain's cabin. The door shut with a soft click.

"Just what the devil were you thinking, Lieutenant?"

Theodore jumped at Norrington's sudden outburst. He swallowed hard, feeling suddenly anxious for the humiliation they'd all suffered today. As the others were doing, he tried to busy himself and ignore the obvious dressing-down his friend and fellow officer was receiving.

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Like it? Hate it? I'd appreciate the feedback so I can know that there are, in fact, people still reading this. I like to know what you think and I like to know if I can or need to improve. 

Thanks again for reading and for your reviews. I really, truly appreciate getting them.

- Gaeruil


	9. Chapter 9

-Matters of Duty-

Author's Note: Yes, I'm still around and, somewhat, here. I have every intention to finish this story. It's just incredibly slow-going. And, of course, it isn't helpful when so many other idea fractions clog up the brain without. Or when things like real life and jobs suck the creativity out of a person.

Disclaimer: I think all the disclaimers in every single chapter before this one should be more than enough to say I own nothing.

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_The principle that human nature, in its psychological aspects, is nothing more than a product of history and social relations removes all barriers to coercion and manipulation by the powerful. – Noam Chomsky_

**Chapter 9**

For the first time since yesterday's ceremony, things seemed to be going well. The _Dauntless_ was well on the way to being restocked, the crab trap, undoubtedly left by Sparrow and Turner, had finally been untangled from the rudder chain, and he now had one of his own officers to leave in charge of the fort while searching for Elizabeth and now the _Interceptor_. The disruptions from Port Royal's socialites had finally stopped once they'd returned to the docks and Gillette had been properly disciplined.

Standing on the quarterdeck, hands clasped behind his back, James gazed out to sea while his officers supervised the work. It was a beautiful day, despite the mar of last night's attack. Somewhere out there, beyond the visible horizon, were the pirates and Elizabeth.

If she were even still alive.

James held no illusions. Though he tried desperately not to think about it, it was very possible that the pirates had already had their fun and thrown her overboard. If that were the case, they'd never find even a small sign of her.

But he was not beyond all hope, either. It was also quite likely that they would ransom her. If that was their plan, it might be some time before they heard anything here in the port. Time that was valuable; time that could mean the difference between returning her safely home and never finding her at all.

"Sir, all supplies have been brought aboard and are properly stowed. Our complement of marines and sailors are filled and at their stations. We're ready to get underway."

James turned back to face his lieutenant and returned his attention to the ship and his duties. By the subdued tone of his voice, Gillette was still sorting through the repercussions of this morning's events and the subsequent reprimand. "Thank you, Gillette," he answered quietly. He, too, was still feeling rather humiliated by the whole incident.

However, James was worried more than anything else; how would the Admiralty react?

Would he lose his command?

His commission?

"Capt- Commodore Norrington, sir?"

James turned a quarter more to his left to face the young midshipman. "Yes, Mister Flynn?"

"Sir, Governor Swann just arrived and insists upon speaking with you before our departure."

James suppressed a sigh. _What _else_ is going to go wrong this morning?_ "Very well," he answered with a slight nod. There was no point in trying to rid himself of his frustrations with Flynn. The boy was new to the ship—to the Caribbean—and was still quite timid. Last night, sheltered as he had been within the fort walls, had been Flynn's first bit of action. "Thank you, Mister Flynn. Return to your station."

James maneuvered around sailors and marines alike as he made his way down to the main deck and then the boarding plank. Idly, he wondered how everything had gotten so bad since just yesterday afternoon. Was it his new rank that had seemingly cursed him, or was it, perhaps, the stumbling, inadequate proposal he'd given Elizabeth?

The superstitious sailor part of him he denied even existed said it was bad luck to tangle with women; that the sea and his ship were mistress enough for him. The stronger, rational side of him—the side that made him such a competent leader—told him it was just an unfortunate set of coinciding circumstances.

The sight that greeted him when he stopped at the top of the boarding plank gave him a distinct feeling of disquiet. Governor Swann was standing below on the docks with two servants, and several hat boxes stacked upon a large trunk at their feet. Swann was standing there with a blithe expression on his face. The governor caught sight of him standing there and turned to direct the two men.

They hefted the trunk and started up the boarding plank.

Swann led them aboard.

"In which cabin shall I stow my things, Commodore?" Swann asked.

This time, James easily recognized the amiable tone used to coerce him into proposing marriage before he was ready. He narrowed his eyes. One thing he did not need on this voyage was a worried father to make him second-guess all his decisions. That this man governed an island made it even more worrying. "Governor, with all due respect, your presence is not necessary and it would be prudent for you to remain here. Think of your duties to the island and the town. Should you leave so soon after such an attack?"

"Nonsense. My own lieutenant will see to my duties as governor. I will not sit idly by and wait. Not while Elizabeth is out there somewhere. I _insist_ on joining you in the search."

"Sir, you are needlessly endangering yourself." He _really_ didn't need this right now.

"My daughter is my paramount concern, Commodore. I will accompany you on this voyage and if you have any further objections, I can and will bring them before the Admiralty or perhaps the king himself."

James pursed his lips and barely squashed the glare that threatened. "Very well, sir," he ground out. He turned sharply on his heel. "Mister Murtogg! Mister Mullroy!" He waited until the two stopped before him.

"Aye, sir?" they both said.

"Please see Governor Swann and his men to the cabin reserved for admirals and other officials."

"Aye, sir."

The two moved away, followed closely by the governor and his men. James returned to the quarterdeck.

He sighed, inwardly cursing Sparrow, Turner, and the pirates who'd attacked. Morale was low, as evidenced by Nathan's quiet mood, nothing was easy, and the headache he'd had all morning was only becoming worse. Normally, the lieutenant was overjoyed at the thought of returning to sea and getting well away from socialites and politicians. Usually, Nathan's light-hearted personality gave a certain spark, an infectious gleam, to his eyes that spread to the rest of the crew. Many times, the ship left port with most of the sailors and marines laughing and joking.

James now realized it was something he'd taken for granted.

There were far too many things, of late, that he took for granted and it was time that habit ended. Nothing was guaranteed, after all. For now, he needed to focus on his duty; on finding Elizabeth and returning her to the safety of her home.

The sound of the boarding plank being secured aboard ship roused him once more to his surroundings. Moorings were cast off and, under James's watchful eyes, the _Dauntless_ made her way out of her berth with ease. He ignored Governor Swann's approach as he watched the sails unfurl, snapping taut in the wind. A small smile graced his lips as Mister Hawke expertly guided the ship along the channel leading through the bay and out to sea.

Not once did he gaze back at the shore. To do so would have been bad luck and even his logical side would not allow him to disregard certain superstitions. Had today been a Friday, Heaven itself could not have forced him to sea, much less Elizabeth's peril.

Once clear, James made his way to the wheel. "Mister Hawke, set your course East by North along the coast."

"Aye aye, sir."

Now that he had nothing to see to personally, James allowed his attention to wander to the governor hovering at his shoulder. With his hopes of being rid of civilian society completely shattered, he chose not to speak. The longer he could hold off what were sure to be inane comments, the longer he could deny the man's presence. He supposed that wasn't really fair to Swann; after all, the man's daughter had been abducted just last night—_had it only been that long?_—but the man had bullied his way aboard with threats.

"Do you really think we shall find her?" Swann finally asked.

James glanced over, locking his gaze with the older gent, however brief. "We can only do our best. It is my sincere hope that we find her in good health."

"But you believe we _will_ find her, yes?"

Suppressing a sigh, James turned his gaze fully. He reminded himself that he was not speaking to one of the king's titled subjects and governor, right now, but to a father who feared for his missing daughter. As ranking officer and the only closest peer, it fell to James to give what reassurance he could despite his lack of sleep, his raging headache, and subsequent agitation and short temper. "To be perfectly honest, milord, it could go either way. However," James quickly continued, forestalling Swann's interruption, "I am quite confident that we will find her."

"But how can you be certain?" Swann pressed.

Norrington just barely stopped himself from squeezing his eyes shut and allowed himself to gather his addled thoughts. He cleared his throat. "Well, if one were to take the current rumors and tales into account, no town has ever survived an attack by the _Black Pearl_. Going by that alone, one might think they could have been after something specific and that for them to cut off the attack before Port Royal's complete destruction, they must have found that something."

"Somehow, that isn't very reassuring."

Was there really absolutely no pleasing this man? "You've asked my opinion, Governor. We are only men, and there are too few ships for a thorough search. We are doing our very best, milord, and I _do_ hope to find her safe and bring her home. I am sorry, but that is the best reassurance I can provide at this time." He glanced around, noting the sun nearing the horizon. "If you will excuse me, sir, there are a few things to which I should attend." He turned and made his way below decks as quickly as possible.

It was a petty excuse, perhaps, but he just had to get away from that Polonius-made-flesh. He was worried enough about Elizabeth himself, and he _had_ to push that worry away for now, if only for the ability to do his duty. This ship and every single man on it depended on him. With his elevation in rank, those who remained at the fort depended on him. All of Port Royal and Jamaica depended on him for that matter.

If he didn't get a new perspective on things right quick, he was liable to buckle under the new strain and then where would everyone be?

"We'd bloody well be as far out to sea without sails, sweeps or a bleedin' anchor as any fool could be, that's where," he muttered once he reached the relative safety of the hatch.

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Like it? Hate it? I'd appreciate the feedback so I can know that there are, in fact, people still reading this. I like to know what you think and I like to know if I can or need to improve.

Thanks again for reading and for your reviews. I really, truly appreciate getting them.

- Gaeruil


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note:** Wow. I'm sorry it's been so long since I've updated this. I've no excuse except that I actually misplaced some of the chapters I had been working on, especially after I moved, and only recently found them. I write them out by hand, first, and while I try to keep all those papers together, it doesn't always end up that way. Combine misplaced chapters and notes with the fact that I've also been battling some writer's block, and oodles of ideas that hit from other fandoms, and you have the delay here.

I'm not entirely certain I'll be able to keep a regular update schedule, but I'll at least try to update more often. I haven't forgotten this story, or any of the others, and I'll do my absolute best to complete them.

If anyone notices any mistakes, please let me know. I've gone over this multiple times, but I don't catch everything. Also, since it's since it's been a while since I've written for _Pirates of the Caribbean_, I'll consider any offered ideas. No promises that they'll be used, but maybe it'll get my creative juices flowing more steadily. Thanks to anyone who's stuck around, and is still reading.

**Disclaimer:** If you recognize it, chances are, it's owned by Bruckheimer, Disney, or any of the other writers or financially invested individuals or parties. I own absolutely nothing.

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_ The youth, intoxicated with his admiration of a hero, fails to see, that it is only a projection of his own soul, which he admires. – Ralph Waldo Emerson  
_

**Chapter 10**

Even though Brian Flynn had not been in the navy or the Caribbean very long, he already thought very highly of his commanding officers. He had only one other captain with which to compare, but between the two, Commodore Norrington had proven to be the better man. He was fair, he was honorable, and he had the respect of all the men under his command.

He also had a reputation for being one of the greatest pirate hunters in all the king's navy.

During his voyage from England, Brian had heard a great deal about the man who would be his commander. The old sailors were always telling grand stories about the different pirates then-Captain Norrington had brought to justice. They told of intricate plans; how Commodore Norrington had entered the very lairs of pirate crews and took them back to Port Royal for trial and hanging.

Though he was young and as yet inexperienced, Brian knew some of the stories had to be exaggerations—all the good tales about great men were—but the fact of the matter was that his commander _had_ gotten rid of a large number of pirates. It didn't really matter how stories said that had been accomplished. Not to Brian. He knew that simply by serving with the man, he could learn exactly how he had done it and hopefully he could follow in Commodore Norrington's footsteps.

After all, Commodore Norrington was exactly the type of man Brian hoped to be when he grew older.

A nudge in his back urged Brian forward in line. Since he was not yet able to dine with the other officers, he and the other younger midshipmen remained below, standing in line with the rest of the crew for their evening meal. He didn't mind it so much, since it allowed him the opportunity to meet new, interesting men he would never have met at his father's estate or in good society.

" 'ow 'bout the time 'e stopped them rum runners?" old Jones said. "Wasn't a thing they could say 'r do. Ol' Eagle-eye could see down int' their very 'earts, 'e could, an' it wouldn't matter if they was lyin' 'r tellin' the truth."

"Now _that_ time was a bit o' a shame," said another. Brian recognized him as Mathias Shaw. " 'em ol' rum runners don't mean no 'arm. Theys the ones what keep us poor sailors 'appy."

"You would 'ave 'em free an' bein' a nuisance, then?" Jones asked.

"Why not? They ain't 'urtin' no one."

Another nudge pushed Brian forward once more, and this time a plate was shoved into his hands. He was thankful they were still into the beginning of their search. The food was still somewhat fresh and free of bugs. There wasn't much he remembered about his first voyage, but the poor food stood out most clearly.

He made his way to a seat with the other midshipmen, carefully threading his way through the rest of the crewmen. It was quite a challenge, but he was quickly mastering the art of preventing his meal being jostled onto the floor or another sailor.

"It's high time you got here, Flynn," Percy Weber called out from the tiny table. Really, it wasn't much more than an overturned barrel. "What took you?"

"I had to deliver a message for Lieutenant Gillette," Brian answered.

"What kind of message?" another midshipman, and also the youngest, Jamie Bennett, asked.

"I didn't ask, and it's wrong to peek," he answered. "Where do you suppose we're going?"

"I'd say Tortuga," Percy answered. "It's the only port in this direction that pirates tend to frequent."

"What's it like?" Jamie asked. "Have either of you ever been there?"

"I haven't," Brian answered.

"Nor I," Percy said. "But Doctor Burke says it's a savage port where all manner of debauchery occurs. He also said he's seen many a good man seduced from his proper faculties. Considering the state of many of the pirates we've captured before, I'd wager it's a filthy place full of equally grubby men and women of loose morals."

"Do you think anyone from the _Dauntless_ will be lured away?" Jamie asked.

"Not so long as Commodore Norrington is in command!" Brian immediately asserted. "He's too great a man for anyone to want to leave one of _his_ ships."

"I should think not," Percy agreed. "Only a fool would leave as fair a command as his. Ol' Jones says he's known but a handful of commanders with the same sense of justice as our new commodore. I imagine that says a lot for him."

Jamie glanced between them. "Do you think we'll find the _Interceptor_ and Miss Swann?"

Percy, who was much older and on the verge of becoming a junior lieutenant, suddenly grew more solemn. "I don't know, Jamie. A part of me says the sea is a vast place and it would be like finding a flea on a beach. Another part of me says pirates are dastardly fellows with no sense of honor or dignity. If anyone can find her, I'll wager Commodore Norrington'll be the one to do it."

"Of course he will!" Brian quickly agreed. He just knew Commodore Norrington could do absolutely anything.

"Mister Flynn!"

Brian turned instantly at the call from Mr. Hocker. "Aye?" The kind old cook had taken an instant liking of him, and had placed him under his wing, so to speak, but Brian had yet to figure out why, exactly.

"You best hurry along, lad. You have the watch tonight, you know."

Brian's eyes widened. In the excitement of their discussion, he had forgotten. "Thank you, Mister Hocker!" He jumped to his feet and quickly snatched up his things.

"Don't worry, Brian. You'll do fine," Percy said.

"Thanks," he answered before rushing away. He dropped his dishes in the bucket and fought his way back through the crew. He sighed in relief as the fresh sea air hit his nose.

On deck, a few sailors milled around and the night was calm with a steady breeze. There was little for any of them to do at the moment, and for Brian, that was a blessing. So far, he wasn't entirely fond of being on watch, and dreaded the day when he would become officer of the watch. What if a pirates' ship attacked? What if a man fell overboard? What if a storm hit suddenly?

Mustering more courage than he actually felt, he stepped up onto the main deck and made his way toward the staircase leading to the quarter deck. A few of the men nodded briefly, acknowledging his presence. Near the wheel, stood Timothy Kennison, one of the second lieutenants. Brian didn't know him very well, and the man rarely spoke to him in their admittedly short acquaintance.

"Mister Flynn," he greeted with a slight nod.

Brian touched the front of his hat. "Lieutenant Kennison."

They stood in silence for several long moments. Had he been able, Brian might have attempted a conversation. He could think of nothing, however, so he took his cues from the older man and remained silent. Brian shifted uncomfortably.

Only the sounds of the sails fluttering and the crew talking in low voices could be heard for miles as the ship pushed a steady path through the water. It was so very different to what he was accustomed.

"How do you find life at sea thus far, Mister Flynn?" Lieutenant Kennison asked, finally breaking the blanketing quiet.

"It's much more peaceful, for the most part, than in London," he answered. "There was always too much happening there; horses and carriages in the streets, children playing. Here, there is only the wind and the sea and the crew. I think I like it very much."

Kennison, to his surprise, smiled. It was a small one, to be sure, but pleasant enough. "You have not been aboard during a battle, yet, have you?"

Brian shook his head. "Not on a ship, I haven't, and I was at the fort when the _Black Pearl_ struck. It was not so very bad."

"Battle aboard ship is very different than the one at the fort. You might find yourself changing your mind. Here, there is no real protection. Cannonballs slice right through the hull and splinters fly everywhere. I once saw a man killed by a large splinter that struck his chest. If we find ourselves in battle, you would do well to take what cover you can, but do not abandon your fellows."

Brian didn't say anything at first, thinking through the lieutenant's words. They were true enough, he knew, but it was difficult to feel any true anxiety for something he'd never experienced. He wasn't sure how he would react in an actual battle, but at the same time. . . "I think… I think that my opinion may not change. Battles at sea do not happen often, do they?"

"It all depends, really. One never knows how many pirate ships will be encountered, or if a Spanish or French captain will decide to attack. Every voyage differs. You are correct, however. They do not occur every day."

"I should think any battle would not be so very awful, so long as Commodore Norrington were in command," Brian said. His eyes widened, however, as the sight of that very man standing just outside his cabin door sank in to his mind. Their commander had a rather strange expression on his face; one the likes of which Brian had never seen. There was a more indulgent one on Kennison's.

The commodore's step had also faltered, but only briefly and Brian wasn't entirely certain he hadn't imagined it. Commodore Norrington said nothing, but walked to stand at the bow. The two officers on duty merely watched in silence for a few moments as Commodore Norrington stared out to sea. Flynn thought he might be in a reflective mood.

Brian was fairly certain that a good commodore would have much to think on much of the time, and Commodore Norrington was certainly a good officer.

Eventually, Kennison and Flynn settled into their duty. The lieutenant spoke more as the night progressed, as well. He spoke of his family in the American colonies and of his young wife there. He was hoping to save enough to send for her, and purchase a small home in Port Royal for her.

In turn, Brian spoke of his own family and life in London. He was the youngest of five with only one older brother, and though they were counted among the gentry, they had little enough money to show for it.

A sudden gust of wind shifted his hat and caused everyone on deck to look up and around. _Does that mean a storm is coming?_ he wondered. Glancing around, at the others, he realized it was nothing. They had all settled back almost immediately.

Commodore Norrington, however, hadn't moved at all.

Watching a little more closely, Brian couldn't tell much about the man, except that he seemed to tower over most everyone else. He stood with his hands braced against the fore rail, and his gaze hadn't moved from the darkened, invisible horizon. Brian couldn't help but wonder what Commodore Norrington was contemplating.

Was it pirates?

Was it the state of Port Royal when they'd left?

Was it the ship?

Or perhaps more likely, those commanding thoughts centered on Miss Swann—if some of the other officers' thoughts were correct. He must surely worry for her very much.

Brian had only ever seen her at Commodore Norrington's promotion ceremony, but it was obvious to him that she was very important to the man standing so solitarily at the bow. When Commodore Norrington had pulled her aside, Brian had been able to see that his commander had cared very much for the lady.

Approaching footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. It was Commodore Norrington. The young junior officer could only look upward in mute awe as his great commander stopped beside him.

"It humbles me to know you think so highly of me, Mister Flynn," he said quietly. "Keep a weather eye out for anything out of the ordinary, and you'll do just fine. Just ask your fellow officers if you're uncertain. You'll learn as we all did." He moved on, then, with just a squeeze to Brian's shoulder.

* * *

Please let me know if my writing is still up-to-par, or if some improvement is needed—just be polite about it, please—or you can even let me know if you're just happy to see the update. Thanks for reading! =)


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